


Life Unbecoming

by EvilPeaches



Category: Avatar: Legend of Korra
Genre: A touch of Stockholm, AU - Amon Wins, Age Difference, Angst, Captivity, Dark, Disturbing Themes, Dystopia, Emotional Manipulation, Enemies, F/M, Fraternal Possessiveness, Implied/Referenced Incest, Jealousy, Loss of Bending Ability, Loss of Identity, Mildly Dubious Consent, Mutual Masturbation, Power Dynamics, Power Imbalance, Self-Doubt, Sexual Content, Sexual Tension, Slow Burn, Violence, doom and gloom, learning to cope, rating to increase, the resistance
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-08-20
Updated: 2021-02-14
Packaged: 2021-03-06 15:35:47
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 14
Words: 62,655
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26001262
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/EvilPeaches/pseuds/EvilPeaches
Summary: Amon takes over Republic City after equalizing Korra, putting in place his new reign of equality.All benders must relinquish their bending. All non-benders must worship his feet.Korra and Tarrlok have their fates chained together and neither one is happy about it.
Relationships: Amon | Noatak/Tarrlok, Amon/Korra (Avatar), Korra/Tarrlok (Avatar)
Comments: 279
Kudos: 279





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> **AN:** Alright, I never planned on writing this, but with Korra coming to Netflix, I had to binge watch the whole first season (which is my favorite season). Afterwards, naturally, I was incensed that they killed off two of the more intriguing characters in the series. Amon would have been a fabulous villain going forward, but nooooo. I've wanted to write an "Amon Wins" AU for some time, so here we go. 
> 
> **This starts out pretty Gen** , but the end result will likely be some strange mix of Tarrlok/Korra and some hard won Amon/Korra. Also be aware, I will be exploring Tarrlok's extremely complicated relationship with his brother. It's not going to be clean cut or pretty. Rating will definitely be going up. I like Explicit, babes.
> 
>  **I will note:** The Amorra stuff will not be until later in the story. These two legitimately hate each other right now. Amon has spent his whole life hating the symbol of the Avatar and that doesn't just...change.
> 
> Timeframe/AU: Everything is canon in this up until Korra tries to expose Amon to his followers in the show, where he removes his mask. This all is assumed to have happened, but Korra and Mako were not successful in defeating him. The Lieutenant never finds out Amon is a big fat hypocrite. Korra doesn't unlock her airbending and subsequently throw Amon's ass out a window. No. **In this story, we go into a darker AU where Amon won his confrontation with Korra and his Equalist Army took the city. This is that story. Yup.**
> 
>  **Disclaimer:** I don't own The Legend of Korra or any of the characters.

It’s been hours since equalization and already Korra feels like dying inside, little by little.

The Equalists have taken power and Korra has already been unmade by their leader.

It’s an all-encompassing feeling, deep in her soul, in her bones. It’s the sensation of loss. A failure so steep that she can taste it in all the tears that spill down her face in the darkness of her cell. It’s the ghost of her spirit, floating in the midnight hour, alongside the whisper of Tarrlok’s deep breathing in the cell beside hers.

The screams of the citizens of Republic City echo off the walls like a horrid nightmare. Screams of terror and despair as the Equalist Army makes its way through the buildings, as Amon takes the bending of all benders and demands the allegiance of all non-benders.

He’s brought Republic City to its knees and there’s nothing Korra can do about it. Not anymore.

_Not anymore._

The sacking of the city goes on for days on end. A revelry of chaos and despair.

After the shock of no longer being able to bend sinks in, anger becomes Korra’s constant companion. Aside from Tarrlok, that is. Tarrlok, the smug bastard who doesn’t appear to be so smug anymore. He’s been brooding in his cell, looking a right mess, ignoring Korra as she rants and raves, shaking the bars of her cell, screaming in frustration and agony.

She doesn’t even know what has happened to her friends and the idea that they have suffered the same fate is maddening. Like a wild dog, she paces her cell, wearing marks into the hard ground. Tarrlok doesn’t even give her a glance, long since tired of telling Korra that her antics are no good, if not annoying.

He _looks_ how Korra _feels_ inside. She hates him. Loathes him. Before all of this went down, he’d been an emotional rollercoaster for her, trying to be her friend, trying to bring her into his confidence, all before getting pissed off when she didn’t play nice the way he wanted. He’d wanted to control her, she knows that.

Perhaps he’d had good intentions to start with, but he’d gone about it all wrong and led them to their showdown in his office, full of unreasonable anger and violence. His bloodbending had been a terrible discovery. Worse yet, he'd been _strong_. Korra glares over at his sitting form; it’s just as well that he isn’t able to bloodbend anymore. 

The revelation of Amon being Tarrlok’s brother had nearly made her cackle in despair.

_"So, is he anything like you?" She'd asked when Tarrlok had told her offhand that he knew Amon was his brother. "He's a freaking bender, but I've never seen him take on a single waterbending stance."_

_With a deep grimace shaping his face, Tarrlok had uttered only a few dreadfully strange words that only sort of made sense to Korra. "That's because he doesn't need to. He's the better model. I'm just father's disappointment."_

A bloodbender that’s even stronger than Tarrlok. Frankly, things can't be any worse.

Tarrlok spends much of their time behind bars silently brooding. Dwelling on a brother he had thought lost forever. The very brother who didn’t spare his own flesh and blood the ritual of equalization.

Korra almost feels for him. Almost.

On the third day of imprisonment, Korra finally snaps at him, glowering at the older man accusingly. “We can’t just sit here, Tarrlok! Stop being a cowardly worm and help me out of here! Republic City needs me! Do you want Amon to win?”

Slowly, he raises his head to glance at her, his pale blue eyes bitter and forlorn. He’s surprisingly disheveled, considering his former image of perfection. His voice is dry and uninterested. “What do you expect to do without your bending? Kill him with your bare hands? I think not. He’s already won, can’t you see that?”

His defeatism is abominable and Korra won’t have it. “I have to do something! _Anything_!”

“He’d humiliate you. You’re a good fighter, Korra. But he’s better.” Tarrlok sounds tired. “He’s had years of experience.”

Korra has never liked being told she can’t do something. Ever.

“I don’t care about that! I’ve-I’ve failed everyone if I don’t at least try-” Korra’s voice cracks, breaking under the strain of her wild emotions.

It’s like sinking in quicksand, air quickly disappearing. Suffocating. The idea of failing everyone weighs heavily upon her. She’s a terrible Avatar. Everyone must be thinking of how she’s abandoned them to their terrible fates.

With his councilman’s cool voice, Tarrlok replies, “It’s over. The sooner you accept it, the better. My brother is a _psychic bloodbender_. Do you understand what that means? Right now, he’s the most powerful man in the city.”

“ _He’s a monster_!” Korra screams aimlessly, clenching her fists, wishing she weren’t trapped in this cell, listening to the horrors happening outside their walls.

The Equalists are holding loud celebrations in the streets. Laughing, cackling, tormenting the newly made non-benders. Their boisterous voices make Korra’s head ache, hearing the senseless cruelty. She fears for Tenzin and the kids. She worries about Mako, Bolin, and Asami. She misses the feel of Naga’s fur under her fingers.

Above all, she fears their disappointment in her. The first failed Avatar. The one who couldn’t stop the end of bending. She's never felt more worthless.

The cell is cold. Without Korra’s firebending, she can’t even warm herself. She shivers in the long, awful nights. Not even her simmering rage keeps her warm. Tarrlok doesn’t seem to be faring much better and Korra is grateful for that. He deserves to be cold. He should have never gone against her! Maybe this wouldn’t have happened, if he hadn’t kidnapped her and thrown her in a cage! _Agh._

When the first week of hellish Equalist terrors and revelry finally abates, Korra feels no relief, gains no solace. Her past lives do not speak to her. She cannot reach them.

Everything she has ever been is no longer true.

She isn’t a bender.

She’s powerless.

She’s nothing and no one.

Amon has taken it all from her.  
  


* * *

  
After that, the days pass with horrid slowness, time melting into a terrible miasma of misery and sorrow. The Equalist guards come to feed Tarrlok and Korra, but little else changes. Sometimes, Tarrlok is taken from his cell, now that the city is completely under Equalist control. Tarrlok also behaves, unlike Korra, so she is generally left to rot. Korra assumes that Tarrlok is let out occasionally to be taken to see his brother.

Not that the Equalists know about that whole shindig, now do they? They probably think Amon just wants to use Tarrlok for public relation purposes, due to Tarrlok being part of the former council. Sure, that’s probably part of it, but Amon is also probably trying to sway his brother to support him now that Tarrlok is no longer a bender of any sort.

Amon can’t possibly intend to keep them prisoner forever. Korra doesn’t believe it for one second. He’d marched her in front of his stupid cult at one point when he’d first equalized her, showcasing her helplessness, building her humiliation to breaking point as they booed her, as they laughed at her, as they asked her how it felt to be like one of them now.

Korra had never felt so small. So hated. She didn’t understand what she had ever done to make these people feel this way about her and benders. Bending is life…and Korra lived for it. Now…it’s gone.

After that occasion, Korra was never taken from her cell again.

It’s as if Amon means to make them all forget her existence.

Perhaps it’s better that way.

So, Korra mourns the brutal destruction of her identity in her continued imprisonment. Days upon days pass with little change. She’s not sure how much time has passed since that fateful day that she let down Republic City. That she failed everyone who supported her, all those who had put their faith in her.

She’s been left to fester in her despair and bitterness. Her anger burned out fast after the first week, so terribly fast. Her tantrums gained her nothing. Instead, she’s had time to reflect on herself. On every step she has taken up until this point.

Up until that very moment that Amon gripped her, his strong hand firm on her neck. The terror and helplessness that suffused her as he did so. She’d been at his mercy. A young girl, kneeling before a man with all the power. Her muscles and joints had locked, twisted under his control.

She’d hated it.

She’d hated how it felt when he pressed his thumb to her forehead and sealed away her bending. How she’d felt him inside of her, for just a brief moment in time, far eclipsing the physicality of his other hand on the back of her neck, dominating. Aggressive.

Korra still has nightmares about it.

She dreams of him, his voice. The hidden slash of his eyes behind his mask. Those pale eyes he had revealed that one time, in front of his followers when Korra had tried to call him out, to expose him. She, just like everyone else, had been shocked to see the scarring there.

She had been so sure it wouldn’t be true.

Korra still dreams of those striking, pale blue eyes, looking at her hatefully from across the room. How that gaze had made her heart freeze in her chest.

Her dreams often scare her awake in the night, her thrashing and crying out always waking Tarrlok as well. When Korra’s eyes open and she realizes where she is and that Amon isn’t actually standing over her, she calms, even though Tarrlok is giving her an irritated, sleepy look from across the room, in his own cell.

The sound of his breathing sometimes lulls her back to sleep.  
  


* * *

  
  
Sometimes, the guards offer to let Korra out of her cell. She usually fights, throwing punches, kicking at whoever comes near her. Yelling that she’ll take any of them on. She’s used to being the toughest person in the room. It hasn’t quite clicked that she isn’t, anymore.

The Lieutenant observes carefully, during these times. Disdain is always written on his face. “It doesn’t have to be this hard. If you are willing to behave like a civilized _non-bender_ , you may leave, just like Councilman Tarrlok.”

The words ‘non’ and ‘bender’ put together in regards to Korra send her into fits of madness. Those words shouldn’t apply to her! Those words don’t belong to her. It doesn’t compute. “I’ll never cooperate with you people,” Korra hisses furiously at him, pointing with exaggeration. “You’ve ruined countless lives! How can you not see that? You’ve traded peace for a tyrant!”

The Lieutenant locks her cell after the guard’s retreat behind him. “A pity. _For you_. I don’t care if you ever leave this hole, to be honest. I think you’re a loose cannon. Untrustworthy. For some reason, Amon hopes you’ll eventually come around. _For the cause_. To show the newly equalized that life can have new meaning in this new world order.”

Korra has heard of this. From Tarrlok, naturally. He’s been used as the spokesperson for the former benders, trying to get them to accept their new places in life. He’s become Amon’s dog and Korra feels incensed every time she thinks of it.

She may have slightly forgiven Tarrlok for bloodbending her, but she won’t forgive him for _this_.

Korra will never be Amon’s mouthpiece. She won’t lie to the people she tried to serve. She won’t tell them that everything will be alright. _Nothing_ is going to be alright; they are all in the iron grasp of a powerful bloodbender, one who has successfully pulled the wool over all of their eyes.

Amon is a wolf wearing the costume of a sheep.

“You serve a monster! You hear me? You know nothing about Amon. _Nothing_. You follow a monster!” She shrieks after him, rattling her bars. Across the room, Tarrlok rubs the bridge of his nose, probably wishing Korra had the sense to stop trying to fight.

Korra wants to slap him and all of these ridiculous people into submission.

“Amon has brought equality,” the Lieutenant replies evenly as he walks away. “What have you brought?”

The words shock her into silence. It feels like being punched in the gut, hard, so hard that the air has died in Korra’s lungs.  
  
It hurts, having her failures thrown in her face so callously. It hurt being called a half-baked Avatar, back in the day. This…this is even worse. Her heart sinks and her throat tightens with emotion. Ridiculously, she wants to cry.

_You’re nothing now._

_You let everyone down.  
  
_

* * *

One cool evening, Tarrlok steps into the prison, having been free of his cell for the past day. He pauses by the bars of Korra’s cell, waiting for Korra to acknowledge him. She doesn’t. Can’t. Won’t. It doesn’t matter. He makes a derisive noise, like he’s growing tired of attempting to seem patient with her. “How long are you going to keep this up?”

How long is she going to keep wallowing in self-hate? As long as it takes. How long is she going to stay hostile to the Equalist guards that keep trying to coax her to their cause? Forever. Or, perhaps, how long is she going to stay behind bars? Korra has no idea.

Numbly, she replies, “It doesn’t matter.” Her body hurts from her last encounter with the Lieutenant and his men. They had hit multiple chi-points on her body, just to cause discomfort and pain. There are bruises on her skin.

Granted, she had punched the Lieutenant smack in the eye and gave him a good shiner. He’ll be thinking of her every time he looks in the mirror for some time and that gives Korra some satisfaction.

“I always knew you were stubborn. I never imagined you’d be this stubborn,” Tarrlok replies snidely.

Korra glances at him, taking note of how nice he looks in contrast to the mess she must look. Tarrlok appears well taken care of. He’s been getting _privileges for his good attitude_. His hair is neatly pulled back, he’s clean, no bruises on the skin that she can see. He’s wearing some drab Equalist style clothing. Korra hates it.

He’s supposed to be charismatic. Elegant. The epitome of the Northern Water tribe. Now, even that appears to have been taken from him.

“Stubborn,” Korra remarks darkly. “That’s part of my charm, I’m told.” Even Mako called her a stubborn goat bear on occasion. Her heart hurts, thinking of him.

“He’s going to let you out if you just...submit.” Tarrlok says with frustration. Sometimes he forgets how young Korra really is, how little of the world she really knows. She didn’t even know what the concept of money was when she came to the city, how can he actually expect her to understand the cause and effect in politics like he does?

If one does this, then one's opponent does that…something Tarrlok lives and breathes. “Your continued outbursts of rage and aggression against the cause are keeping you here. If you stop, Amon will let you leave. He will gladly let you out of this prison. He just wants to see that you are capable of acting like a civilized young woman."

"Oh, he wants me to be civilized? Big fat deal. Pull the other, Tarrlok."

He gives her a sardonic grin that looks at home on his mouth. "You've got me. Mostly, he just wants you to come to heel.”

Korra is more of a blunt weapon. Surely, he understands that? She scowls up at him, well aware that she smells terrible, has greasy hair, and is in desperate need of a shower after being trapped in this cell for so long.

Her latest punishment is to not be allowed to bathe. _Thanks, Lieutenant, you great jerk._

“I don’t need your advice, Tarrlok. It’s too late for that. I’m just…going to bust out on my own. I’ll knock out a guard. Steal the key. I’ll eventually do it successfully.” Korra has already tried all of these things. Her antics have sent guards to the medical bay, but none of her attempts to escape have been successful yet.

It’s her continued attempts that have her locked up like an animal still.

“Impress me,” Tarrlok says drily. “Where do you think you are going to go? If you manage to escape? The Equalists have overrun the city. They will just take you back and throw you in here. None of your allies have their bending, per my understanding.”

That stings, cutting the air from Korra’s chest. No…no one she cares for has their bending anymore? She had suspected this for some time…but to hear it hurts far worse. She’s truly failed them all, wallowing in this prison.

Perhaps…if she does pretend to comply…perhaps she can figure out a way to save everyone. To reverse what has been done. “It was just an idea,” she mutters morosely.

“Was it? Clearly not a good one. No, Korra, you need to think about getting on Amon’s good side. He wants to use you as a symbol of former benders ‘assimilating’ into the new society he’s made. If you agree to not cause trouble every step of the way, he will let you live outside these walls.” The distaste on Tarrlok's face speaks volumes; he's never liked the Equalists, even if he's playing 'good boy' at the moment.

Fine. Perhaps she can suck it up and bide her time.

“I’ll stay with Tenzin’s family.” She needs to be with them again. She misses the sound of wind whooshing past her as they flit about the Island. She supposes, sadly, that she won’t hear that ever again.

No more airbenders.

Tarrlok gives her a look, the sort that says he thinks she’s being naïve. “ _He_ would never let you return to them. Too risky. Amon thinks it will give you bad ideas. Tenzin, namely.”

Oh, Amon doesn’t want her plotting? Is that it? He’s been discussing this with Tarrlok, has he? Furious, wishing she had fire to express her vast emotions, Korra growls, “Fine. I’ll go home. To my parents.”

“Also, not possible. You must remain here, in Republic City.” 

The fire inside of her gutters out. Korra sags miserably, thinking of her parents. How worried for her they must be. “Then, maybe _The King_ should let me know what he _will_ let me do. Otherwise, I may as well just stay here, in my cage. I have nowhere else to go.”

Tarrlok looks uncomfortable, which is odd on him. He’s always so confident in himself, smug, conceited. Seeing him look uncomfortable is hard to swallow. “I offered to take you in. At my home. To keep an eye on you and report to him on your progression of coming to the cause.”

Korra stares at him, blinking slowly. Then, she bursts out at the absurdity of it all.

“ _He’s allowing that_?!”

Tarrlok rolls his eyes, a hint of his prissy, conceited self showing through. “It seems you still don’t understand how my brother thinks. I’m under his thumb, in his control. Who else does he want in his growing sphere of influence? You. Thus far, you have been quite the annoyance for his followers to deal with, even in captivity. Amon wants you in the public eye again. Soon. The non-benders need to see you accept him as the leader of the new world or there will always be…some malcontent. If you are with me, you’ll be kept away from the scheming influences from your past life.”

Squinting at him, Korra digests what he's saying. "So, in effect, you'll be my jailer? AGAIN? How is that any better?"

He grimaces, almost looking offended. He looks away, rubbing the back of his neck in what might be a hint of shame. "No need to be so dramatic."

Korra can’t believe her life has been reduced to this. “This is crazy. Plus, it’s not even totally accurate.”

“What's not accurate?”

She grins at him lightly, not much of a grin, but the first one she has cracked in a long time. “You’re a scheming influence. So, technically with you, I can still get into trouble.”

Pinching the bridge of his nose, Tarrlok mentally prays for serenity. “Don’t let anyone hear you say that or you’ll never get out of here. I know you have your anger towards me, Korra. I understand it. But this is your only option. Otherwise, you’d best get used to living in this particular cage. This is your last chance, after tomorrow, I'm not coming back here. What will it be?”

Living in this cold, rancid cage is the last thing Korra wants. Her spirit needs to be free from this horrid cell. All that echoes back at her here are her failures and all the dark thoughts that haunt her daily. A singular depression is gnawing at her spine and she wants it to stop.

“Fine. Let’s do this. Tell your master that I’m ready to ‘behave’.”

“He's not my master, but I’ll let him know,” Tarrlok replies, looking very much like his old self. His features have shifted, looking at her from under lowered lashes. “It’s all a game, Korra. Play the game.”

 _Play the game_. In this, Tarrlok flows seamlessly like water in a river and Korra drowns in it like a dumb rock. Korra isn't one for navigating the political field. She's about action. _Playing the game_ is all about lying through one's teeth, grinning, making friends with people one hates. Korra's stomach turns at the very thought. Tarrlok has to know she that isn't in her nature. He thrives on scheming and jockeying for power, of course it doesn't bother him. For Korra though, it's repulsive and makes her want to hide under a rock. And, that's even before adding Amon into the equation.

“I don’t want to play anything with you or your crazy madman brother,” Korra retorts.

Tarrlok reaches one long-fingered hand up to absently move a stray lock of hair from his face, “Humor me.”

Korra frowns at him, cocking her head to the side. “How can you...live with yourself? _He did this to you_. How can you stand to play nice knowing the whole world is going to crumble because of your kin? Why aren't you more angry!? You should want to take him down!”

Tarrlok has a weary expression on his face, eyes faraway, lost in some memory. "It's not that simple, Korra."

"It's not? Enlighten me. You loathed the non-benders! You treated them like crap when we worked together on your task team! How have you just...bowed over like a bootlicking fool?" Korra is panting slightly at the end of her rant, but it's a fact. Tarrlok always was the leader of the pack, now he's allowing himself to be used and treated as 'less-than'. It's obscene. 

He's looking at her with tired eyes, suddenly looking like he's ready to collapse. Like all the strings to his puppet suit have been cut. "Korra. I have to play the game. I have no choice but to bow down. The Equalists wanted me executed for being a bloodbender."

Despite it not being a complete surprise in theory, Korra takes a step back in shock. "But, he'd never kill you. You're his bro-"

Tarrlok's jaw works and Korra can almost taste the bitterness in his tone. "He can't say he won't execute me because I'm his brother. It would _expose_ him to lines of questioning he won't want to answer to. No, the only way I get to live is if I fall in line like a good little Equalist, Korra. If I don't..." he makes a gesture with his finger dragging over his neck. 

Korra feels solemn. She tries to stay positive, but it's hard in this awful place. No wonder he's been acting like a good pal with the Lieutenant and the guards. "There's always another way, Tarrlok."

He looks pained, a flash of his own bitterness crossing his features. “There is only one way with Noatak.”

“Is that so?” She says it numbly, already suspecting what he's going to reply with. 

“His way.” Tarrlok leaves her to think on her future, just as the sun begins to set.

* * *

  
That night, Korra dreams, tossing and turning on the smelly, hard cot she’s been given. Her sleep is restless, full of masks, of cruel hands, of a dark baritone voice tormenting her eternally. The sensation of something amiss wakes her up sharply, sweat dripping down her forehead. It felt like she’d been touched, but a quick glance beside her says no one is in her cell.

Korra shudders, clapping a hand to her heart, trying to stop thinking of Amon. He’d been standing over her in her dream, mocking her. Forcing her to her knees, using his bloodbending on her. Twisting her into uncomfortable shapes, lording his power over her. Intimidating her, calling her a spoiled girl with no concept of the harsh realities of the world.

He’s always a blatant hypocrite in her dreams, flaunting the power he wants to eradicate. It infuriates Korra.

She almost thinks she’s still dreaming when she sees a dark outline standing by the bars of her cell. Tall, broad. Silent. Still. Blinking rapidly, she realizes it isn’t a ghostly shadow from her nightmare, burned into her eyes. It’s actually Amon, standing there quietly, hands behind his back.

Watching her, like an unholy statue.

Her heart nearly leaps out of her throat, but Korra tries to remain still. Refusing to let him know how much he’s rattled her, unsettled her, Korra says, “Is this the only way you’ll face me?” Korra glares, her voice shaky, betraying her emotion. “When I’m safely behind bars?”

He doesn’t answer, just observes her carefully. Watching her like a hawk from behind the eyeholes of his disguise. Amon shifts his weight slightly, causing moonlight to glance off the white paint of the mask. The image is ominous. Korra feels her heart race, her breath coming short. Her chest begins to ache and her inhales are becoming more difficult.

Is he going to hurt her? Give her to his men for entertainment? She cringes, thinking of it. She’d heard women begging in the streets, asking to not be harmed, to be let go, screams increasing in pitch alongside the sounds of Equalist men laughing raucously. Korra has a faint idea about what was happening and it makes her sick.

She’d like to hope that Amon wouldn’t subject her to such a thing, but he’s a beast and she doesn’t have very high expectations for his ideas on morality.

After a few moments of his silence, Korra hunches up defensively, snarling, “What do you want from me, jerkface?”

_Very smooth, Korra._

Has he come to torture her, now that she has no way of defending herself? Stupid Tarrlok, acting like Korra had a chance of getting out of here…

“I’ve come to inform you of your future. I’m sure you’ve been…wondering.” His voice is loud in the darkness, molding to it, consuming it. Becoming one with it. “You’ll be pleased to know that I’ve decided against executing you, despite many of my followers asking for it.”

Korra feels her stomach drop, instantly imagining the Lieutenant looking at Amon with disappointment over being told no, he’s not allowed to beat Korra into an early grave.

“You don’t expect me to thank you, do you?” Korra asks sarcastically.

His stance widens a bit, making him seem larger than life to Korra. Amon has always seemed that way to her. A strong body, agile, dangerous. “I’m not sparing your life out of any sense of kindness. I just don’t want you to become a martyr. That would be counterproductive for me. You are more use to me alive, acting as a new supporter of my cause.”

“Everyone is going to know I don’t actually support you. I suppose you don’t want to kill me because you fear the Avatar being reborn right away. What a downer that would be for you, huh?” Korra hugs her shoulders, trying to comfort herself.

Amon tilts his head slightly. Mockingly. “You’re not the Avatar anymore. I ended all of that when I equalized you. I delivered you from that blemish on your humanity. No, I could kill you and nothing would happen. Would you prefer I kill you? If you won’t stand beside Tarrlok and preach the good word, as it were?”

There it is. He’s not above killing her, no matter how he twists his words. Korra goes silent.

He chuckles slightly, derision heavy in the undertone. “I thought not. Lucky for you, Councilman Tarrlok has been generous enough to offer you a place in his home. He’s been such a help to the cause, as of late. I expect you to follow his example.”

Korra wants to scream at him and tell him to shove his offers of freedom up his ass. She’ll never support the Equalists. She’ll always fight him, be against him. Then, before she opens her mouth to rudely tell him off, she remembers Tarrlok telling her that playing nice is her only escape from this hell hole.

Play the game.

Her plans to set things right can always come afterwards, when Amon thinks she’s come to his side. When he thinks he's got her safely in his grasp.

Just to test him carefully, she asks, “What if I just leave his home? What if I go find my friends? What if I just go back to the South? You can’t stop me. He won’t be babysitting me all day; he finds me to be an annoyance, you know.”

“If you leave, I’ll know. You won’t like what happens afterwards. That, I promise.” He delivers the words coldly, laced with threat.

Korra almost shivers. _Spirits, he’s made of nightmares._

“There’s nothing more you can do to me,” Korra replies, trying to hide the pain in her voice. She won’t lower herself in front of him, her nemesis. “Why should I care? I have nothing left for you to take.”

_You’ve taken away who I am._

“Are you so sure about that? I can kill with a thought. I can explode a heart with a glance. I could do it to you, right now,” he utters softly, tone dark and ominous. “I can feel your heart, you know. I can _hear_ it. If you decide to disappear from Republic City, I can easily take away those you love that still remain. Do you doubt me?”

He says these things because there are none of his followers to hear him speak these traitorous words. These admissions of his bending power. Korra wonders if he enjoys it, knowing he has all the strength in the world.

Korra doesn’t doubt his words, feeling sickness wash over her. She feels violated, sitting there knowing that he can feel inside of her, that he senses the blood in her veins, that he can feel her emotions flowing through her.

He can probably feel how afraid of him she is. Distantly, she wonders if he woke her up with his bending. All with a simple glance.

“I’ll take your silence as understanding.” His tone is dry, slightly like Tarrlok’s in that moment. “You will stay with my brother. My agents will be keeping their eyes on you. You will remain in my control. You will support my cause as if it is your own. It is your job to put the newly equalized at ease. Think of it as a new calling.” He says that last bit mockingly. “You are no longer the Avatar. You are here to convince the many of your support, to help bring peace to all those who are confused or uneasy with how Republic City has changed.”

He pauses, straightening up to his full height, hands once more behind his back. “This doesn’t have to be a terrible chapter in your life. Lie however you want to the people. Tell them you are _so happy_ to be equalized. I don’t care how you do it. I don’t care if you ever believe it at heart. But if you make them all believe you, your life doesn’t have to be so hard. I can be generous, like Tarrlok. _If you fall in line_.”

“I hate you.” Korra says it with as much feeling as she can.

“That’s fine. But you _will obey me_.” Now he sounds like a strict father, overbearing, lecturing a runaway daughter. “Maybe, in time, you’ll get over this rebellious phase and we can work together. You and my _little brother_ managed that, once.”

She wants to beg him to just leave her alone. Every word he speaks is a knife in her ribcage. She wants to rip his mask off and dance on it until it breaks into a thousand pieces.

“Is this really my only option?” She never meant to say it aloud, but the words fall from her lips none the less.

“Yes.” Amon makes as if to turn away and leave, but he pauses, half turned. He pivots slowly, gesturing with one hand meaningfully. “Oh. I almost forgot." No he didn't. "One more thing. Every time you don’t cooperate, someone you care about will suffer for it. Think on that before you start scheming your little juvenile revenge upon me.”

Korra gapes at him in shock, leaning backwards against the wall of her cell, as if it will help her get further away from him.

Confident, Amon turns away from her, striding back into the darkness like a demon from a nightmare, his broad shoulders shifting with every step.

When she’s sure he’s gone, Korra buries her face in her hands, wondering how her soul is going to survive all of this.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **AN:** Comments and kudos are loved and appreciated! They definitely make my day and motivate me. 
> 
> Or just tell me this whole thing is just crazy and I should scrap it :D Whatever works for you!


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Korra is released into Tarrlok's care as a political prisoner. 
> 
> She's supposed to behave. She doesn't.

The next morning, Tarrlok is standing outside her cell in a clean set of clothes, looking like he’s finally had a good night of rest. Korra wonders about that. She’s not sure she saw him in his cell last night, when she awoke to Amon’s ominous presence. 

He must have been allowed to sleep at home last night. _Traitor_ , Korra thinks, even though she’s about to become something of a traitor herself, as it were.

Tarrlok studies her face, his pale eyes hovering about her tense frame, the stiff twist of her lips. “Amon spoke to you. Did he explain things clearly?”

“Oh. _Very_ clearly. Your brother is such a prize,” she remarks hatefully, not recognizing her own voice.

When had she become so full of rage? When had hate fused with her flesh?

Oh. Right.

In his long, well-kept fingers, Tarrlok is holding a key. With a certain amount of poise, Tarrlok unlocks the cell, slowly sliding it open. He doesn’t even wince as it screeches in that rusty, awful fashion. Korra stares at him in suspicion…is it really time to go? Just like that? No guards to harass her every step of the way? It cannot be.

His lips purse as he watches mistrust flutter across Korra’s face. “The cell door is open for a reason, Korra. I grow weary of this…tiresome place. Let’s go.”

Carefully, Korra stands and steps a foot out the cell door, inhaling deeply. It must be a joke. The Lieutenant must be waiting to march her to Tarrlok’s in chains. To humiliate her further. They can’t seriously plan on just letting her walk like a free woman.

When nothing malicious happens, Tarrlok arches his eyebrows at her and gestures that she should follow his lead.

So, reluctantly, she does. What other choice does she have at the moment?

As they leave the prison, Korra can hardly believe that she’s free for the first time in…however long. Some of the Equalist guards are lounging around, chatting. They go silent when they see her with Tarrlok, eyeballing her with suspicion, distaste, and even curiosity.

There are whispers between the group of fanatical Equalists.

_“She’s out? Why?”_

_“Amon is letting her go under the Councilman’s ‘supervision’.”_

A whisper of cruel snickers. Korra feels her stomach twist.

_“Oh, I’d not heard that…”_

_“Should’ve been executed. It’s what she deserves.”_

_“Look how pathetic she is. Still Tarrlok’s special whore after all.”_ Laughter follows that comment and Korra nearly blows her top.

She reminds herself that she needs to _behave_. Otherwise, Amon will punish someone for it. Someone she cares about. _Besides_ , she reasons with herself darkly; _you’ve fought many of these guards, argued with them, insulted them._ It makes sense that they hate her and think poorly of her, the enemy.

Korra’s shoulders rise up a bit as she hunches over, wanting to just disappear. Their judgement still stings. She’s not sure what she’s ever done to deserve such unfounded loathing. _Well_. Before the fights and insults anyway. Now, she probably deserves their censure.

Tarrlok has a flush creeping up his neck. Embarrassment? Shame? Korra can’t be sure. Likely not pleased about the whore comment. Korra snorts; seems like everyone took notice when Tarrlok almost bought her everything under the sun when he was trying to woo her onto his squad.

She supposes how that had looked on the outside. A powerful man, buying extravagant gifts for a young, impressionable girl with her own brand of power behind her name.

Tenzin _had_ been rather scandalized, now that she really thinks about it.

“They will come around to you, eventually.” Tarrlok utters it as they get out of hearing distance. “They’ll want to know you as a non-bender. It would be wise of you to befriend these people, rather than continually antagonize them.”

Oh, sure. Sage advice from a man who basically sold himself out as the Equalist liaison to all the benders who have been reduced to nothing.

“I don’t want to be their friend. I want to save the benders! _I want my bending back_.”

Tarrlok shushes her slight outburst as they step outside the prison. Looking around quickly, he presses her up against one of the brick walls, looking down at her with pale eyes. Korra pushes at his shoulders, ready to shove him away. Then again, after having no real human contact for weeks it strangely feels nice, having his large hands on her shoulders. His hands are warm and Korra has been so, so terribly cold in her bare cell.

The scent of his cologne drifts over her, reminding her of rain and winter fir trees. Fresh. Something she wants to inhale deeply. It makes her think of winter and home. The scent is chilly, yet soothing.

Which, is all rather stupid, considering she hates his guts.

“That’s your problem, Korra.” Tarrlok gives her a disappointed, yet condescending look. “You don’t want to befriend or listen to the non-benders. You _never_ did. I’ll admit I didn’t care all that much about them either. That’s our _shared_ mistake. They know you think they are nothing, because you act like having your bending taken has made you worthless, worse than a rat. How do you think they view that?”

It’s a stunning realization. Korra stares up at him, at his stone cut features, the firm line of his lips. She feels vaguely horrified; she never meant to make people feel bad or less about themselves. “I never thought of it that way.”

“Lovely. I’m glad I’ve gotten something into that thick skull of yours. Think a bit more, Korra. Less emotion, more thought. I’d appreciate that.” He steps away from her, taking his warmth with him. “We may get through this yet. We will find a new place in the pecking order. I’ll figure it out.”

That’s what’s bothering her. He’s acting like they are partners still. Something asinine like that. Like he didn’t fight her, bloodbend her in his office. Like none of it is relevant anymore. Like he never kidnapped her.

Unfortunately, she remembers it all in terrible clarity. This desire of his to continue associating with her, like they share a similar sorrow…it’s bothering her.

“You’ve been going to rallies and traitorous crap like that, haven’t you? Playing nice?” Korra says it accusingly. “You’ve already landed on your feet just fine, the way I look at it. Why have you been staying at the prison with me, all this time? I’m sure _your dear brother_ would have let you go home.”

“I’ve been waiting on you,” he replies shortly, irritably. “Mostly. I went home last night to get things in order for your arrival.”

Korra glances at him in surprise. _Oh_.

Tarrlok doesn’t give her a glance, just keeps walking, guiding her towards the other side of town. Buildings are bruised and broken, the streets have cracks and damage. The roads are relatively silent, aside from Equalist supporters wandering around gleefully, still celebrating their victory over the benders.

There’s graffiti on the walls. Some of it reads, _Goodbye Benders._ Korra feels her eyes sting at the sight of those words, melting on a brick wall menacingly.

Republic City is a ghost of what it once was.

But then, so is Korra.  
  


* * *

  
Tarrlok has a beautiful home. Somehow, Korra isn’t surprised. He’s always been such an extravagant priss. She knew that upon seeing him for the first time. Elegant, poised. He’s the sort of man that knows he’s good looking and likes to use it to his advantage. He’s Northern Water Tribe through and through; that always counts for something.

She stills smiles when she remembers Ikki asking Tarrlok, _“And how come you smell like a lady?”_

_Korra had wanted to say, “Because he’s Northern and all Northern men like to go all out when it comes to appearance.” She’d refrained, because she didn’t know all that much about men anyway. Especially not Northern men, aside from the fact that her father had come from there once upon a time._

_She hadn’t been very close with Uncle Unalaq either, because he was always so…Royal. Her mother had made a sarcastic comment about him when Korra was younger, when she’d ignorantly asked why Unalaq always seemed larger than life. Why did everyone have to treat him so special?_

_Her mother’s face had pinched uncomfortably on that note. “That would be because Northern Water Tribe men like to be worshipped.”_

_Her father had heard, poking his head into their hut, “That’s not true, woman!”_

_Korra’s mother had given him a teasing smile in return, uttering, “It’s especially true in your case.”_

Tarrlok’s voice pulls Korra from her memories. “There’s a bath in the guest bedroom that you can use presently, if you’d like.”

“Are you saying I smell gross?” Korra knows that she does, she just wants to see him squirm around saying it outright.

Sure enough, Tarrlok’s cheekbones take on a hint of color. “Don’t be absurd! I’m just saying, if you’re so inclined, there is a bath there. I had the maid stock it with different shampoos and oils because I’m not sure what you like.” He scowls, looking away.

Feeling a little awkward at his admission of trying to make her feel welcome, Korra fiddles with her hands behind her back, tilting her hip slightly as she shifts on her feet. She’s a mover, when she’s feeling self-conscious. Energy, she’s always made of energy. “Gee, uh. _Well_. That was nice of you. I’m sure I’ll find something that works. I’m not really picky.”

He’s trying to hide the fact that he’s pleased with her response. That he’s gotten a small thrill, being told his gesture is appreciated. Korra doesn’t want him to be too pleased with himself, he’s far too smug of a bastard.

True to his word, there’s a lovely spa bathroom by the guest room that Korra will be calling home going forward. Until she can figure out how to get out of here, that is.

Korra bathes in the giant tub, in sheer awe of how lovely everything is, from the marble to the stone carved walls. There are candles in small alcoves, lit, smelling of lavender and chamomile. The hot bath is lovely, but just sitting in the water makes her cry. There’s no one to watch her in her private moments anymore, now that she’s not in a prison cell with bars.

Tarrlok’s home may be a prison of a different sort, but at least she gets to act human again.

Alone, she wallows in despair, wishing she could connect with the water, wishing she hadn’t been reduced to this sad mess of human flesh. The water doesn’t call to her, it doesn’t feel of life and serenity. It’s an empty liquid that she can no longer commune with.

Korra chokes back a sob, not wanting Tarrlok to hear it downstairs.

She feels so empty inside.

How can she save the city now, as she is? Stupid Tarrlok and his political scheming. Partially, she still blames him for all of this. Maybe if they hadn’t spent so much of their energy going after each other, they could have actually put an end to Amon before it got to this point.

She stays in the water until her fingers prune. Korra stares at them numbly. He’s been a gentleman, as it were. Tarrlok. He’s given her a room to herself and has left her alone since, trusting her. The feeling is strange. She’s going to have to break that trust eventually.

Korra won’t stay here, idle.

Much later, before bed, she catches sight of Tarrlok. He’s quiet, gazing at the wall of water he has in his main living space on the first floor. It’s beautiful and elegant, just his style. It’s very close to how his office was, the night that Korra had confronted him alone.

He doesn’t see her watching him. He’s busy staring at the water with a sad, horrid yearning.

Tarrlok reaches out and touches his fingers to the cerulean liquid. Then, he pulls away, as if burned. Somehow, this breaks Korra’s heart.

It breaks her heart, because she feels the same.

This empty shell of a young woman, no longer the Avatar. No longer a bender.

Nothing.

He’s nothing anymore either, she realizes. He’s a puppet for his powerful brother. His secret brother, the one who won’t admit his relation to Tarrlok, considering he finds their shared past shameful. Korra and Tarrlok are both his prisoners, even if they reside freely inside of Tarrlok’s lovely home. They are Amon’s to torment, humiliate, and rule.

Sad, broken puppets.

They belong to him, physically. He certainly owns Korra’s dreams, if not her spirit.

Deep in her musing, Korra slowly realizes that Tarrlok is now looking at her. His eyes reveal no emotion, no sense of shame that she has been watching him in what must be a private moment of regret. They hold each other’s gaze for a few quiet seconds. Now, more than ever, it becomes shockingly obvious that she is a young woman, alone with a man twice her age, sleeping in his home.

Living in his care.

Without her bending, Korra is just a girl. She’s strong, but she’s never going to be as physically strong as a man of his size. She’ll need more non-bender battle training, at this rate. The brief moment of anxiousness must show in her eyes, because something slightly predatory glitters in his in response.

He’d pursued her, once, when he wanted to woo her onto his task force. Acted like a Northern Water Tribe man, trying to gain the adoration of a younger, desirable woman. Korra doesn’t believe he actually felt anything…like attraction…towards her. Or even fondness. It was all politically motivated.

But, she’s old enough now that he can view her in terms of a woman, so, perhaps…

_Nope._

Briefly, she loathes herself for even thinking of him in such a fashion. _Mako, fiery Mako_. If she concentrates hard enough, she can almost remember the feel of Mako’s lips on hers. She fights to keep tears from springing to her eyes; what has become of him? Will she see him again?

Is he…with Asami? There’s a pang of jealousy in her heart, wondering if he’ll go back to the striking, raven-haired beauty now that Korra isn’t much of anyone anymore. Regardless, she hopes they are both safe, even if she secretly hopes that she still has Mako’s heart.

It’s selfish of her, but she’s always been selfish. Wanting what she shouldn’t want. She shouldn’t even hope for anything to become of their relationship now; the Equalists will never let her out of their iron grasp.

Tarrlok’s gaze softens on Korra minutely, quelling whatever dark thoughts he may have had previously. Perhaps he saw the brokenness in her gaze. Or perhaps Korra had imagined that dark expression in his eyes. “Get some sleep, Korra. You’ll feel better in the morning,” he says carefully, as if speaking to one of his constituents.

She gives him a vague nod, ascending the stairs. He calls after her, having another thought. “I’d advise against sneaking out. I know how tempting that must be, but Amon does not look kindly upon insubordination. _Do not_ try to seek your friends.”

Korra pauses on the top stair, face twisting with emotion. She doesn’t respond, she simply goes to her room, wallowing in bitterness. _He can’t keep me here._

In her bed, she muses that she misses hearing him breathing as she falls asleep. She’s become accustomed to him in a cell near hers, so close that she can hear his deep, slow inhales and exhales. Her new lullaby in this terrible world. It’s terribly quiet, all alone.

The bedsheets smell heavenly compared to the mess she’s been sleeping in for weeks. As she curls up, hugging herself, she wishes she could speak with Aang. _I need help,_ she thinks sadly. _I don’t know what to do anymore. How can I sacrifice everything that I ever was and support Amon? How can I stand there, beside Tarrlok, smile and nod and say everything is going to be alright to those who have lost everything that makes them who they are?_

There is no response from the Spirits or otherwise. Korra waits, wishing, hoping. Nothing.

She sighs, rolling onto her side.

Sleep gives her no respite; she spends most of it dreaming of a low, dark voice, telling her how worthless she is. How she’s lost. Firm hands, holding her down, her muscles contorting against her will. 

_You’re nothing now. You’re not even the Avatar._

She wakes up with tears streaming down her face, the sheets soaked through with sweat.

Sleep does not come again.  
  


* * *

  
  
By dawn, Korra jimmies her bedroom window open and climbs right out, full of intent to return where she shouldn’t. She’ll be careful, she’ll do her best to stay out of sight until she gets to her destination. If there are chi-blockers keeping an eye out for her, she’ll avoid them with care.

She tells herself she has to at least _try_ to do something.

It’s easy enough, scaling down the vines climbing up the side of the house. Easy enough to vault over the brick walls around the large, well-kept yard. It’s a slight thrill, sneaking through the streets as the sun slowly reaches up into the sky, blazing.

Korra makes her way through the neighborhood that Bolin and Mako live in, fully intending to try and check in on them, hoping beyond all hope that they are okay. As she reaches their building, someone pushes her from behind, nearly sending her stumbling onto her face.

Angry, Korra whirls around, fists raised, ready for a fight. There’s a small group of people, wearing their old bending clothing. All of their faces are looking at her with betrayal, disgust. Korra feels her stomach drop. “Um, what’s the deal?! Is there a reason you’re attacking me?”

One man, with earth kingdom attire, sneers at her. “A reason? A reason? Of course, there’s a reason! You abandoned all of us! You let the Equalists take our bending!”

“It’s the Avatar!” Another member of the group shouts this, a woman, as if trying to draw a crowd. “She’s here!”

Korra is aghast, stepping backwards from the fury on their faces. This doesn’t feel right. There’s danger, brewing in the undercurrent. Most importantly; Korra has no bending to defend herself. “I didn’t abandon you! I was held prisoner! I…I didn’t want any of this to happen! Just listen to me!”

It does nothing to calm the growing mob of dismayed former benders.

“You’re a failure! Fix us! The Equalists have started taking our rights,” the man hisses furiously. “They have instated curfews and even Equalist guard patrols, marching through our neighborhoods! Taking what they want, beating us down while we can’t defend ourselves. Attacking our women!”

One woman in the forefront of the group has a trembling lower lip as she stares at Korra accusingly. “My sister was assaulted last night by a group of Equalist supporters. I could do nothing to save her, because my bending is gone. _She was never even a bender in the first place and she was raped!_ This is all your fault, Avatar! It’s your job to protect us!”

Anger and fear bubble precariously inside of Korra. "Everyone calm down. I want to help you, just stop shouting!"

Her words fall on deaf ears.

“Why have you forsaken us?”

“How will we support our families? My job relies on my bending!”

Of all the things that Korra could have imagined, she didn’t imagine _this_. For a moment everything seems to go dull, like a painful white noise in her eardrum. Panic races through her chest as her eyes dart back and forth, looking at all the angry, shouting faces.

None of these people are happy to see her, these former benders. They blame her, as if she took their bending away herself.

Before she can even think of what to say, something strikes her in the face, hard. A flash of pain, scarlet and oppressive. Instinctively, she raises a hand to her face, only to gasp when her fingers come away bloody.

Gazing down at the ground, she sees a rock there. Someone threw a rock at her!

Shock is a cold sensation, creeping upwards from her toes, nearly rooting her in place. This isn’t supposed to be happening! The benders are supposed to be her allies, not her enemies! Why won’t they listen to her?

The angry shouting is only growing and Korra thinks she hears whistles being blown in the distance. Equalists must be coming, drawn by the sounds of violence and outrage. She needs to get out of here; she can’t be caught in this neighborhood. Amon would see it as breaking their agreement.

She feels numb as she looks up at the mob around her. Korra’s vision blurs, angry teeth and eyes swirling into a miasma of dark feeling. “I…I can…I’m trying to help…” She stutters out, trying to think of the right words to say, what they want to hear, but her tongue feels thick and useless. “My…bending is…”

She can’t say it’s gone. The admission won’t leave her lips. 

Then, something else strikes her, shaking her into action.

 _I’m so sorry,_ she thinks as she turns and runs back to Tarrlok's, realizing that nothing she says is going to save her from the angry gathering. What can she even think of doing? She doesn’t even have bending of her own. The shouts and screams sound out behind her as she flees, the chi-blockers jumping into the fray, telling the former benders to disband their mob.

Numb, empty of emotion and feeling, she climbs over the wall surrounding Tarrlok's fancy yard and drops down onto the earth. The grass below her feet is emerald green, like the eyes of an earthbender.

Fully intending to sneak back into her room, climb up the ivy wall, Korra is stopped by a dry voice calling out to her. “Your good behavior lasted all of one night. I’d say I’m disappointed, but frankly I’m not even surprised.”

Aghast, Korra glances over her shoulder, gaze catching on Tarrlok having some tea on his ritzy patio, along with biscuits and breakfast pastries. His dark hair catches in the light, a deep chocolate with highlights of auburn and sunlight.

He looks perfect. As always.

Sagging miserably, already destroyed from her awful realization that she’s all alone in this cruel new world, Korra asks hoarsely, “Are you going to tell him?”

Tarrlok’s eyes are tracking her form, hovering on her disheveled appearance. What must he think of her? “That depends. Is he going to want to punish you for something?”

Turning to him completely, giving him the full view, Korra says, “I didn’t get very far. Didn’t even make it to my friends. So probably not. You tell me.”

Her voice cracks.

Those pale blue eyes widen at the sight of blood on her forehead, where the rock had struck her. Something like understanding grows in his gaze. The pity that comes next is something that Korra can’t stomach. She doesn’t want his pity. She doesn’t want anything from him.

“Who did this to you?” He almost sounds like he cares.

Blinking rapidly, looking away from him, Korra says quietly, “The former benders. They think I betrayed them. They wouldn’t…they didn’t listen…they _hated_ me…”

He pinches the bridge of his nose. Sighs. “He’s not going to hear anything from me. Not this time.”

Korra sniffs, scuffing her boots in the dirt.

“Would you like a pastry?” Tarrlok’s voice effectively changes the subject, as if he’s already moved on.

Looking up at him, Korra feels her lower lip wiggle ridiculously. _Don’t you cry, not in front of him. You’re tougher than this._ “Yes. I would like one.”

She approaches the little stone patio set and sits down across from him, dejected. Korra grabs a pastry and numbly chews on it before all the flavors in the world burst across her tongue. Oh, it’s good stuff. She’s hungry, how did she not realize that? Her face brightens momentarily.

Because she’d been running for her life from an angry mob of former benders, perhaps.

Tarrlok is smiling at her slightly, as if he knows something about her. “You can have as many as you’d like. I’m not counting.”

Ah, he does know a thing about her, doesn’t he? She loves food.

Greedily, she grabs a few more and inelegantly stuffs her face, enjoying the way his nose wrinkles in dismay at her horrid table manners.

On the inside, she feels like the wreckage of an entire city.  
  


* * *

  
After that morning debacle, Korra doesn’t leave Tarrlok’s house again.

She doesn’t leave, but Tarrlok _does_.

It’s no secret that he gets called to Council meetings, now hosted by Amon. A sham affair, if Korra were to guess. She wonders if Tenzin is still on the Council. She wants to ask Tarrlok if he’s seen him, if Tenzin has asked about her.

If Tenzin looks alright.

If he’s even alive.

She’s afraid to ask. It’s a new development that Korra hates about herself. This anxiety, this feeling that she’s lost all self-confidence. Her self-worth. What happened to the brave girl she’s always been? Probably broken down, bit by bit. First by Amon under the Avatar statue. Then, when he took her bending. Then, when her own people rejected her so cruelly.

Everything is crushing her, weighing her down.

She doesn’t want to be this. She wants to feel strong again, but she doesn’t know how to find herself. Korra is lost and she’s afraid she’ll be lost forever.

Tarrlok sometimes eases her misery. Sometimes. He can be pleasant, when he puts his mind to it. However, every time he leaves in his awful Equalist clothing, Korra feels her hate grow towards him again.

She doesn’t understand how he can so easily grin and throw himself into supporting the cause, especially after they took his bending away. She knows he's under the threat of death, essentially, but he doesn't need to be so absolutely perfect at pretending to be an Equalist! Korra's heard him on the radio; sometimes he's so good that she nearly believes he is an Equalist through and through.

It’s odd; she feels like she’s got a split brain. Half of it doesn’t mind Tarrlok, somehow wants to find a common ground with him. The other half wants to punch him. All. The Time.

A strange fatigue has overtaken her. _Depression_ , she thinks. _This must be what it feels like_. _Like, sinking into the ground, like losing the will to sit up. Worse are the thoughts of death and wondering if she should give up and maybe by sheer luck the Avatar line will continue without her._

The nightmares remain consistent. Amon always stalks her dreams and Korra can never win, like she's sinking in quicksand. Her fear of him has grown to the point that it feels like her heart is always on the verge of having an attack. When she wakes up, she finds herself checking every corner of the room, under her bed, in the armoire. She's always afraid he's there, in the dark. He never is, but the fear haunts her. On one dark night after a horrid dream, her heart is beating so fast that she bends her pride -the only thing she can still bend- and knocks on Tarrlok's door to inform him that she's sure she's dying, her chest is hurting so terribly from stress. He presses a calm hand over her heart and tells her to go light the lavender and ylang ylang scented candles. "It's not a heart attack, I assure you," he finishes with dryly as he shuts his door in her face. "Now, let me sleep in peace. You're being dramatic."

Irritating man. 

The nightmares continue, Tarrlok continues to be a traitor, but strangely Amon has not come to demand Korra appear in public to tell lies on his behalf. 

However, that soon changes.

Although Amon doesn't appear, Tarrlok begins asking her when she’s going to come with him to some of the rallies. Inside, Korra knows she doesn’t have the heart to even fake support at the moment. She refuses every time Tarrlok asks. She refuses even though it means more solitude and time with her own awful thoughts. More time for Amon to grow displeased with her.

She tries plotting ways to get back with her group of friends, but then she remembers what happened last time she tried that. Sometimes, she plots out all the ways she’d like to end Amon and his horrible revolution, but most of those involve her being able to bend in some fashion. That kills most of her plots in a blaze of fury.

No, it’s almost nice when Tarrlok is around. He keeps her mind occupied and on other things. They talk about the Water Tribes, old traditions. Discuss what they want to eat for dinner. He mocks her lack of cooking skills. Her terrible table manners. She mocks his cologne even though she likes how it smells. Korra would rather die than tell him that, so she just jabs him with questions like, ‘aren’t you going to put on your lady perfume?’ before he walks out the door to his meetings.

He complains about the way she stomps all over the house like a buffalo bull. She calls him a Princess and cackles when he flushes irritably.

Probably worst of all these sickening things that they find themselves doing is the one they really shouldn’t do. They critique each other’s waterbending forms, like it’s a secret only they share. Though, the way he fixes her sloppy stances during those rare times makes her body heat, embarrassingly so. She doesn’t understand why and doesn’t want to examine it.

Tarrlok’s not horrible. He’s got a certain masculine charm about him, a bit of confident experience that doesn’t totally rub Korra the wrong way.

Korra doesn’t like that particular realization.

Because, it’s partially his fault that she’s here in the first place and no matter how pleasant he seems, she’s his prisoner.

And there’s no way that fact is ever going to be dressed up nicely.

In bed at night, she thinks of Mako and his pretty amber eyes. His cocky smile. The way he looks when he’s competing in a pro-bending match. She chases the warm feelings inside that those thoughts always brought her in the past, feeling strangely relieved when she feels a tingle of interest at the apex of her thighs.

Korra tries to keep herself sane, because otherwise she’s clearly losing it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **AN:** OMG I'm so glad that so many people are interested in this story. Hopefully this chapter keeps it real and isn't a let down. This chapter is a lot of doom and gloom and Korra mentally beating herself up, but its mostly to get things set up for everything to come. 
> 
> Also, I'm trying to keep realistic and canon in regards to characters (despite the AU aspect), because we all know Korra had the biggest hots for Mako in season 1. I'm not going to dismiss those feelings whatsoever, even though the end goal here is the mix of Tarrlok/Korra, Amon/Korra, Amorralok. Slow burn, baby. I've never been a fan of instant love, just my goofy quirk. 
> 
> As always, I love all of your comments and kudos, each one makes me smile and dance XD I totally meant to wait until Friday to post this, but...couldn't wait. Cheers.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Korra has been avoiding her duties to the Equalists.
> 
> She's not going to be able to hide from them much longer.

The days pass. Korra’s restlessness grows, but every time she considers climbing back out her window, a rush of terrible emotion falls over her like a wave of ice-cold water. In her mind, she sees the angry mob, the people who see her as at fault for this tragedy. The very memory keeps her frozen, bringing bile to the back of her tongue.

So, she stays put, an aura of despair crawling through her veins.

Tarrlok is pleased, naturally, that she hasn’t tried to gallivant around town looking for her allies.

It bothers her, above all things, that Tarrlok doesn’t act like a monster. At least, not lately. She almost wishes he did. It would make all of this easier to swallow, perhaps would help her feel less guilty about hiding in this lovely prison he’s sharing with her.

Korra may be young and naïve, but she’s not stupid. She’s not going to hold Tarrlok up as a savior, rescuing her from a horrible fate in an Equalist prison. She has a long memory and she still holds a grudge at him for kidnapping her after the office debacle.

No, he’s been acting like a complete gentleman thus far and it’s maddening. She’s already vulnerable, she’s well aware, considering she has no one else but him. It’s _dangerous_.

She’s lonely, but she can’t allow herself to forget _what he did_. What’s he’s done. What he’s doing now.

Her experiences in prison were _terrible_. Many unspeakable. None of this erases the fact that Tarrlok is most definitely _not_ on her side.

He told her so, after all.

_“Listen to me,” he’d said when he first brought her to his home. “I want you to listen good, considering I know you’re always engaging in ‘do-good’ plotting in your head. I will not help you, with whatever it is you think you are going to do against Amon. All of that is futile at this point. I am not going to defend you to the Equalists; I’m not your White Knight. I intend to be successful in this new world order and keep my head on my shoulders. Attached. I won’t allow you to ruin my chances. You destroyed my life once already. Once is enough.”_

_“Gee,” Korra had said snidely. “You’re practically a loyalist to the cause already. Amon works fast. The Lieutenant better watch his back; I think you’re coming for his job.”_

_“Make no mistake, I don’t care about non-benders,” he’d growled at her, eyebrows furrowed. “I can play the game better than anyone. But I will not ruin my fragile standing with your ignorant insubordination.”_

_Ambition. Power. Things he’d had in spades. Korra long knew he was a power-hungry politician at heart. Stepping on the weak never seemed to bother him if it helped him achieve his goal. She found it ironic that though he never cared about non-benders, he now was one. Apparently, he’d weighed his chances of supporting a possible underground cause to fight the Equalist Army and found the idea either lacking or undesirable. He would never be an ally to Korra if she were to try and fight for the benders now._

_“I loathe you, you know.” She’d said it in her offhand manner, no real heat in her tone. “From the very bottom of my icy Southern Water Tribe soul.”_

_He’d had the gall to laugh at her, shaking his head mockingly. “Oh, Korra. The ice of my Northern Heart simply can’t be bothered to care.”_

No matter his words then, his actions are as confusing as always. Then again, he _is_ a convincing liar. Like his brother.

Korra reminds herself often that no matter how companionable Tarrlok can pass himself off as occasionally, he’s not her friend, he’s not her friend…

She needs to get out of here before she loses herself entirely. _There has to be a way to find Mako and Bolin. Surely…surely they’ve heard I’ve been put here, right? Why haven’t they come to break me out?_

It’s growing harder for Korra to accept that the only way she’s going to be given freedom to search for the people she loves is if she submits. If she throws her hat in the ring to do victory speeches with Tarrlok.

She’s going to have to sacrifice _more_ to gain something back.

She’s going to have to sacrifice her dignity, her reputation, and everything she stands for if she hopes to reunite with her friends and family.

 _I just need to be brave._ Korra thinks darkly, watching Tarrlok through the front bay window, where she’s sitting on the window seat. He’s walking through the front gate, sunlight catching all of his good sides. Annoyingly. When he catches sight of her, he pauses in his stride, eyes going wide. He’s still not used to catching her watching him, but what else does she have to look at? He regains his composure and inclines his head to her slightly, with a conceited grin shaping his lips. Preening as he gets closer to the front door. He enjoys being looked at, which is precisely why Korra tries to avoid doing so. But she’s only human.

 _I need to play the game and mean it._ She mentally hardens herself. Tarrlok might think playing ally to the Equalists is the bigger game, but he's _her_ jailer, so he's a piece on her chess board now.

She usually doesn’t indulge him, but this time Korra smiles back.  
  


* * *

  
Her dreams have escalated, now that Tarrlok has told her she needs to start figuring out what she’s going to tell people at the rallies and victory events. What her _convincing_ story will be. Korra hasn’t quite figured that out and it’s troubling.

_She’s dreaming of Amon again._

_It’s not just that he cuts an ominous figure, hooded and masked; it’s that his very body language is intimidating. He walks like a soldier, stands like he’s the only man in the room. Proud, broad shoulders squared evenly._

_He has a voice that she can feel in her bones. Distinct, powerful. She’s sure she would recognize his voice anywhere, even in a crowded room, especially if he were whispering in her ear…_

_…his breath is ghosting across her neck. Korra exhales, shivers, feels her dream shift quite suddenly, her vision going hazy. She’s standing in Tarrlok’s garden, watching the birds, the sun is nearly blinding, yet all she can focus on is how a familiar dark form is slowly brushing past her as she stares straight forward…_

_His hand takes her by the wrist and Korra wants to pull away, but she’s locked in place. Trapped. Her breathing goes shallow and sweat rolls down her forehead. He’s feeling her pulse. He’s feeling inside of her and it’s intimate and she hates it, this loss of control…_

_“My, my,” he rasps in his husky tone. “Are you afraid of me, Avatar?”_

_Her lips move to answer, but no sound comes out. He chuckles contemptuously. “That was a hypothetical question, young Avatar. No need to give me one of your stumbling answers. You see, I already know. Your mouth can lie to me; your body can’t.”_

_He towers over her and she’s shaking in his shadow like a leaf. The only place they touch is where his thumb and two fingers tightly hold her wrist, yet it feels like she’s in chains._

_A tear rolls down her cheek and she wishes she could bend it into an ice blade. To plunge into his rotten heart._

_The dream goes black, moves slowly, like she’s underwater. Everything becomes muffled._

_When she can see again, everything bathed in a strange moonlight, Tarrlok is standing in front of her, looking down at her with his pale eyes, the emotion in them indecipherable. Neither of them speaks and Korra wonders what they’re doing out here._

_The moon is a waterbenders friend, but they aren’t waterbenders anymore._

_She focuses on his jugular and sees it fluttering madly._

_He smells of rain and Korra’s eyes drift closed as she inhales, her mouth dropping open slightly with the action…_

_...you are nothing, Avatar...a voice, drifting on the wind..._

When Korra wakes, her heart is pounding again, though at least she doesn’t feel like dying over it.

Disturbed by her dream and the strange, flickering images and changing emotions, she rolls onto her side and thinks of happier things. Pro-bending, with Bolin and Mako. Riding in a Satomobile with Asami, racing so fast that their hair whips about madly.

She misses them more than she can bear.

Korra touches her lips and thinks about Mako, the extreme heat of his body holding hers.

 _I’ll be with you again,_ she thinks, determined. _I’ll save us, Mako. Then, I’ll be worthy of your love._

She tries to not think of the part where Asami and Mako only ‘sort of’ seperated, because it was all such a confusing time those last few days before Amon took over. Korra buries her face in her pillow. _I’m a mess. He could have already gone back to her._

What’s worse is Korra _likes_ Asami. She’s jealous of her, sure. The problem is, she’s nice, cool, and funny and that in turn makes Korra feel guilty about any of her darker feelings on the matter. _Mako might be better off going back to Asami anyway. I’m apparently on everyone’s crap list right now. He shouldn’t wait on me. Even if I want him to._

The thought makes her heart twist painfully, so she pushes it away.  
  
She prefers to be selfish.

* * *

  
Another night, Tarrlok returns late, after he’s been with the ‘inner circle’ all evening. Brushing elbows with the elite of the non-benders. Amon’s favorites.

“Korra,” Tarrlok says into the house as he opens the front door, his voice echoing up the lofty ceilings, bouncing off the water wall.

 _What is this ‘honey, I’m home’ nonsense?_ Korra thinks sarcastically as she remains silently lying on the couch, examining an old Water Tribe tome, full of ancient forms. She flips the page. _Oh, that one is unique, how do you-_

“Korra.” He calls for her again, his tone changing to a strange edge.

_What is he all worked up about?_

Korra lifts a lazy hand up from where she is lying on the couch without looking up. He’ll see her hand waving at him over the backseat from across the open floor plan. “I’m already here.”

There are two sets of footsteps, not one as the door closes behind him. Korra sits up instantly, staring at who has come home with her jailer.

The Lieutenant.

Korra feels her eyes take on a malicious hue of blue, the muscle under one of her eyes twitching momentarily. If she still had her bending, she would earthbend him into an early grave, six feet deep. He must see it in her gaze, because he smiles grimly.

Quickly, she hides the Water Tribe tome under the cushion of the seat she’s on.

They join her in the large lounge room, the only sound in the tense air being the waterfall. Korra says nothing, though her teeth grind precariously. Every time she sees Amon’s right-hand man, she wants to crush him between her fingers, snatch his eyeballs out and squeeze them into mush.

She’s not a murderer by any means, but she’ll make an exception for him if she must.

Her fingers twitch with the urge and she barely quells an outburst. This effort does not go unnoticed by the foul man.

“What have you done with this hoyden, Tarrlok? I had thought her incapable of keeping her unclean mouth shut.” The Lieutenant gives Tarrlok a pleased smile. “I’m very impressed.”

Tarrlok gives him a politician’s grin, slight, unassuming. As if he agrees. “She’s a work in progress.”

Korra scowls at him. _Traitor!_

His cool eyes drift over to her, a hint of his conceitedness hovering about him. His gaze tells her to keep her mouth shut and behave. Korra is not a fan of that in the least.

Whatever the reason is, it cannot be a good that the Lieutenant has come. He moves about the room like he owns it, idly stalking around the furniture to gaze at the wall of water. With gloved fingers, he traces a few of the books on the opposite walls, grinning nastily at a few spines as his fingers trace the titles.

Korra and Tarrlok are both watching him. Waiting. He’s the right-hand man of the leader of the revolution; he can do just about anything he wants.

 _Anything._ Korra shudders, pushing memories into darker parts of her mind.

With a strange sort of casualness, he says, “You’ve been doing rather well with the followers, Tarrlok. Rather well. Your way with words is…admirable. Bravo.”

To his credit, Tarrlok looks annoyed, because he probably cares less about what the Lieutenant thinks about him. That, or Tarrlok doubts his sincerity. Tarrlok’s expression quickly goes charming when their guest turns to face them. The Lieutenant takes in Tarrlok’s easy expression before his eyes cut over to Korra. “Her absence has been noted, however. Why has the former Avatar not appeared at our rallies? Is she…still a non-believer of the cause?”

Those last words drop dangerously. Accusing. Challenging. Korra’s stomach roils sickly and she bites her tongue to keep silent. Anything that comes out of her mouth to this man…the words are never pretty. She has the scars to prove it.

Tarrlok goes to sit on the chaise lounge opposite of Korra. He sits like a king, perfect poise and confidence. His voice is like chocolate, smooth and silky. “Of course, she supports the cause. You’re the one that softened her up while she was in prison, after all. There just hasn’t been a good time to re-introduce her to the new Republic City. As you know, she can be…unpredictable. Emotional.”

The Lieutenant smiles and Korra feels her nose wrinkle in distaste. He says, “There is no ‘good time’. Amon is tired of waiting. He thinks you’ve been coddling her; I believe he is right, based on what I’m seeing here.”

His blue eyes are looking at the soft slippers on Korra’s feet, along with the large cup of blooming petal tea on the side table. Korra discreetly tightens the robe she’s wearing, hating his glance. She knows what he’s thinking. What he’s imagining she gets up to with Tarrlok. What _everyone_ seems to think she gets up to with Tarrlok. Korra can’t imagine what has given everyone this absurd idea.

Aside from the whole task force courtship thing.

She almost wants to ruin the Lieutenant’s sordid fantasy by telling him they spend most of their days giving each other backhanded insults and really awkward glances. 

Tarrlok gives him a thin smile, a slight sound of derision slipping through his lips. He speaks as if Korra is no longer in the room. “Coddling? The girl is cooped up in this house day and night. She’s a political prisoner. Does that sound like coddling to you? My bro-” Tarrlok coughs quickly, changing his sentence smoothly. “I fear Amon is projecting his impression of me onto this situation. You can assure him, there is no special treatment going on here.”

Korra raises an eyebrow at that. She’d love to know what that impression is. Sometimes, she likes to imagine the two jerks chatting about her when they have their private meetings. All, ‘oh, how’s the prisoner?’ and ‘She’s well, thanks, no manners, but I’m over it.’

The Lieutenant seems unimpressed by Tarrlok’s reply. “Regardless, she will join you during the next gathering to speak. She must come out of hiding at some point. Our enemies must hear her sing our praises. I’m just glad you have somehow made her more…tolerable.” The odious man chuckles, his voice taking on a knowing tone. “Sometimes, wild things like this one just need a man’s touch to get them in line.”

That’s it. Korra stands up, clutching her robe, red as a tomato, yelling and pointing rudely, “I’ll touch _you_!”

Tarrlok rubs his forehead in what appears to be frustration, but his lips are quite telling; he’s torn between laughing and losing his temper. A charming little talent of his.

“ _There you are_. I almost didn’t recognize you, so silent. Drinking _tea_. In fuzzy slippers.” The Lieutenant is sneering at her. “Normally, I would find that to be a worthy offer, but I don’t lower myself to sleeping with former-bender scum like you.”

First off, _offensive_. But secondly, Korra hadn’t meant it like that whatsoever.

“I meant it as a threat!” Korra yells with exasperation, livid. Why does she always say the wrong thing? Why can’t she sound like she has any sort of decorum? “You know, like a kiss, but with my fist tearing off your ugly mustache.”

At those words, he pulls one of his electric kali sticks from behind his back, turning it on threateningly. It crackles with pure menace as he points it at her. “Try me,” he says lowly. “You know how I like putting you in your place.”

Korra feels the blood drain from her face, remembering.

Sensing this scene sliding downhill fast, Tarrlok comes to Korra’s side and wraps an arm around her waist, causing her to arch her back in slight surprise at the intrusive touch. “Whoa-” She utters, wiggling a bit.

To stop her nervous squirming, he pulls her flush to his side tightly, ignoring her surprised gasp. With a bland expression, Tarrlok tells the Lieutenant, “That won’t be necessary. She may be a bit…raw still. Nothing I can’t straighten out, _alone_. I know how to deal with her dramatics.”

The insinuation is vile and Korra wants to vehemently protest. Plus, he’s as dramatic as she is!

Rolling his eyes with slight shake of his head, the Lieutenant turns the crackling kali stick off and puts it back behind his shoulder. “Get her sorted out. Amon wants her to go public tomorrow. No excuses. No…unseemly outbursts.”

Korra is utterly aware of Tarrlok’s warm body beside hers, tall and lithe. She’s torn being wanting to lean into him, her human contact having been so limited as of late. She’s the sort of person who thrives off contact…and she’s had so little for so long. He’s all she has and she misses the embraces of all her friends. She's losing grip on her sanity. She's been a prisoner in some way, shape, or form for too long.

That being said, Tarrlok isn’t her friend, no matter how he dresses this situation. Korra must remember that. Not to feel attached. Not to feel grateful to him, even though at her weakest moments she wishes she had someone to tell her everything is going to be alright.

She misses her father, Tonraq. He would have comforted her. He would have told her to stay strong.

With a dark look in her direction, full of loathing, the Lieutenant lets himself out the front door, out into the night.

Even as the door shuts, Tarrlok keeps his hold on her for longer than Korra feels is necessary.

Korra pushes Tarrlok away from her angrily. He stumbles backwards a few steps, looking put off by her action. Korra is too furious to care how he feels about all this. “Jerk. How could you bring him here? You know…you know how he treated me in that cell. You know what he did to me!”

She’s shaking with emotion, fists clenched as she stares Tarrlok down meaningfully.

The Lieutenant had looked for any excuse to punish her. To humiliate her. He’s mocked her through the bars until Korra was ready to puncture her own eardrums to escape the sound of his voice. The way he’d forced her to strip down to her underclothes, held in place by his mini-army of chi-blockers. How they had hosed her down with cold water while she’d screamed until her lungs ached.

How he’d make her eat off the ground like a dog, just a bowl if she was lucky. He’d make her stick her face in the bowl to lick it clean, otherwise he’d take it away and she’d starve until the next meal time, where he would start it all again.

Or how he’d stood there and waited for her to use the bucket in the corner of her cell. She’d held on as long as she could, not wanting to humiliate herself further in front of the horrid, hateful man. She’d cried, afterwards, feeling filthy inside.

Just like he said she was. Filthy. A sinful abomination that needed more than a simple cleansing. It wasn’t good enough that Amon had ‘cleansed’ her. The Lieutenant wanted to make sure she broke. A broken person will easily bow to a cause, after all.

_“You must give your life to the cause, as all of us have” he’d told Korra. “That’s the next step in becoming truly cleansed.”_

Tarrlok has the grace to look chastised, remembering, though Korra can’t tell if the expression is real or faked. It’s hard with him; he’s good at lying. “I’m sorry, he insisted on coming here with me after the meeting with Noatak.”

Korra shudders, fingers twitching. “Don’t call him that.”

“Korra-”

“I’m going to bed,” she snaps coldly, storming up the stairs, hearing a ghost of his whispered ‘goodnight’ in the air. Before she slams her bedroom door, she yells, “Don’t ever bring him here again!”  
  


* * *

  
The next day, she’s nauseous, her heart already in her throat when she wakes up. There are dark circles under Korra’s eyes, hinting at her restless night. Dreams of hopelessness, of falling, of Mako’s lips on hers, of Amon mocking her worthlessness…none of it contributed to a good night of rest.

Korra’s eyes ache. She wishes she didn’t dream anymore.

Vacantly, she dresses, her mouth tasting acidic. Speaking in front of a group of assembled Equalists is the last thing she wants to do, but she’s got no other options anymore.

She knows that Tarrlok is waiting for her downstairs, so she quickly puts her hair up in a wolf tail and gives herself one last glance in the mirror. She cringes upon seeing herself; Korra feels like an imposter.

Walking down the stairs silently, wanting to sneak up on her jailer for once, considering he’s always complaining about how she stomps around in her boots, Korra keeps her eyes peeled for him. It’s silly, really. But it gives her a sensation of power, catching him doing anything he doesn’t expect her to see.

Something she can claim.

Tarrlok is leaning against one of the open doorways. Slinky, like a tiger cat. Face half in a book. He’s dressed in typical Equalist attire, dark olive and midnight clothing that really makes him seem more ominous than he has any right to be. It accentuates his lithe, athletic form where his usual Water Tribe clothes often hid it.

She wonders how long she can watch him before he realizes she’s here. Then, the final step creaks loudly and she winces. _Should have remembered that. You live here, Korra, you dunce._

Instantly, he lifts his head up from reading, his eyes wide upon seeing her. He doesn’t like her sneaking up on him and Korra feels a slight, triumphant grin pull at the corners of her lips. Her grins feel unnatural these days, like she’s making a mask move.

“You can’t wear that,” Tarrlok says flatly, noting her traditional Water Tribe attire. He straightens up, no longer leaning.

Hissing at him, Korra clutches at her clothing like it’s a lifeline. He must be joking; is he really going to pick this fight with her? “I’ve already given up my bending, I’m not giving up my heritage, too!”

Those pale eyes flash with a hint of danger, the sort that Korra knows he’s capable of, yet sometimes forgets. This charming man, so utterly capable of violence and aggression. The viciousness hidden underneath his pleasant form and smiling lips. “You will go upstairs and change your clothes. You cannot wear that to your first rally with the Equalists. They will be outraged.”

“Then let them be outraged! Boo hoo!” Korra rages, turning red with emotion. She doesn’t care what these people think. She just wants to get this terrible affair over with.

“Why do you insist on doing this?” He says with menace, eyebrows furrowed.

“Doing what! Having some pride?”

“ _Arguing with me!_ ” He slams his book down on the bookshelf, coming towards her, his movements suddenly going fluid. A sure sign that he’s about to blow his top. These movements are hints of his former waterbending ability peeking through and Korra recognizes them instantly.

She almost shifts into a waterbending stance in reply, her natural response to seeing such blatant echoes in his body. 

The expression on his face only gets darker and Korra can’t stop herself from egging him on. She walks sideways, crossing one foot over the other as she does. They’re circling each other. “I bet you wish you still had your bloodbending, yeah? You could force me,” she says with exaggeration, mocking. “’Take off your clothes, Korra’. They _offend_.”

He’s about ready to lose his temper with her, his eyes narrowing. “You will do as I say and you will do it now.”

“Do your worst,” she taunts, fully intending to call his bluff. He won’t make her do anything. Without his bloodbending, he’s just a fancy bastard with really fancy hair.

How wrong she is.

He darts forward fast, hand outstretched to grab her. Korra yelps and bolts to the left, ducking down slightly to avoid his grasp. It’s absolutely ridiculous, the way she tries to ride to the next room, him chasing after her.

The thrill makes her heart pound as she shrieks in a mix of nervous amusement and genuine ‘don’t catch me’ feelings. He’s growling something under his breath, his hair getting a tad bit wild as they maneuver around the dining room table.

If they still had their bending, his house would be trashed and they both know it.

With a lusty yell, Korra pivots and races through another doorway, not seeing him twist to take a different route, intending to cut her off by the main living area. Twisting her head around to see if he’s close behind her, Korra runs straight into him unexpectedly with an _oompf_.

His arms fold around her, holding her to him as he then hauls her back towards the stairs. Up to her room. “You bastard!” Korra yells against his chest, enveloped in the scent of him. "Let go of me!"

She punches him in the gut, but he only grunts, grinding his teeth together in irritation. “If you think the fact that I have no bloodbending makes me less of a monster, you don’t know me very well,” he replies with a gasp of effort. “You know who my brother is, after all. The absence of morality is in my blood.”

He flings Korra into her room and slams the door behind him, looking crazed, breathing heavily. _He’s going to need to fix his hair after all this_ , Korra thinks vaguely, staring at him from where she’s sprawled on the floor.

While Korra is panting on the floor, he rifles through her drawers and starts throwing Equalist style clothing in her direction. “You will put these on.”

She throws them back heatedly. If she had her bending, she would burn the garments to ashes. “I will not!”

Tarrlok goes still, precariously so. “Don’t make me do this,” he says lowly, his tone almost reaching Amon’s deep, occasionally rough baritone. The sudden similarity in voice, paired with the Equalist clothing he’s wearing, makes Korra’s body react.

Her heartrate skyrockets to a fever pitch and her spine stiffens. The fine hairs on her arms prickle.

Sensing he’s about to do something very regrettable, Korra leaps to her feet and tries to make a bid for the window, but he grabs her and holds her against himself tightly. With a hiss of anger, he works off her heavy parka, much to her outrage. “How dare you!”

It's a clumsy, awkward affair.

“I’m going to continue unless you start dressing yourself!” Tarrlok snaps back viciously, holding her arms pinned to her sides with his iron bar of an arm around her chest. Her back is pressed to his chest and she can feel his heart pounding against her spine. His free hand goes to her trousers threateningly.

His large, warm hand settles there, resting just above her groin in warning. Ridiculously, Korra feels a flutter of something in her belly, a jolt in her chest, mixed with sheer panic. For a moment, they both stand there, panting furiously, waiting to see who is going to make the first move.

“Well?” Tarrlok rasps roughly, full of something a bit beyond anger. Korra almost recognizes it as a strange mix of self-loathing and excitement. “Will you cooperate?” He neglects to say ‘please’.

When she says nothing, he starts to pull on her loose trousers with his free hand, shifting them down her hips. He’s going slow enough that he’s giving her a chance to take over for him. Korra grits her teeth, tossing her head. “I’m not going to wear that awful clothing! You’re going to have to dress me like a mannequin!”

With a snarl of disbelief, Tarrlok says, “Tenzin is going to be there. If you do this for me, maybe I can find a way for you to see him. But only if you behave! Wear the Equalist clothing and dress yourself like a grown woman. I’m not your father. I don’t relish treating you like an insipid child, despite what you might think.”

That causes Korra to stop fighting. All the tension and rage in her body melts away. Tenzin. A chance to see him. She sinks back into Tarrlok’s chest, her hatred of him briefly abating. She sighs in resignation, hating that she feels like she’s losing a battle. “I’ll change.”

He sags a bit behind her, sighing so heavily she can feel it through his stomach. His voice is tight. “Good.”

When he steps away from her, but doesn’t leave, Korra slaps him hard, glaring as she shifts her pants up to protect her modesty. He rolls his eyes upwards and says caustically, “It’s not like it’s anything I haven’t seen before! Fine. You have two minutes.”

As he makes his way to the door, Korra says cruelly, “You’re lying, you know. I think you do enjoy it. Treating me like your personal property.”

“Get over yourself,” he scoffs, shutting the door behind him as he leaves her in peace. Finally.

Korra sags miserably, looking at the heap of Equalist clothing. As she sheds her traditional Water Tribe clothing, it feels like yet another piece of her is falling away. Likes leaves on a tree in fall, pieces of herself are withering and dying, floating down to nothingness.

It takes all her strength not to cry. She should have known he would ask this of her, but it still hurts. It hurts because Tarrlok should understand how this feels.

When she meets him downstairs once more, he still looks put out with her, expression shadowed, body language tense. When he doesn’t move, Korra sighs irritably. “I’m ready to go.”

His jaw clenches and Korra almost wonders if he’s actually mad at her or at himself. He makes his way to the front door, not looking back at her, ripping it open like he means to break it off the hinges. “Excuse me jerkface! What the hell is your problem?” Korra calls after him, incensed that he’s still acting like a spoiled man who is used to getting his way.

She chases after him, making sure to close the door behind her.

“You bring this on yourself. You blow everything out of proportion! Why do you get so emotional about everything that must happen?” He makes a few more angry comments, muttering under his breath. Likely worried about his reputation or something frivolous. Clearly, being late to an Equalist rally is not high on his checklist.

Oh, he’s _scolding_ her. Grand! 

He’s frazzled and out of sorts because of their tiff. He usually is, when they fight. Korra feels mentally exhausted, knowing he’s going to play nice in front of the audience, but once they get home, he’s going to be a bear to deal with all over again. His pride or his manhood or _something_ is hurt.

Wanting to calm him down for her own selfish reasons, she halts him, making him stand in front of her. He scowls and tries to step back as she reaches up, but she only smooths his hair, which he now wears in a single braid. It had gotten frizzy and wild after their undignified scuffle and Korra knows he wouldn’t want to be seen this way in public. Tarrlok stills instantly, his breath catching. In this, he’s strangely predictable. 

She smiles at him dryly. “You get just as worked up or didn’t you notice?”

His throat works and Korra pretends she doesn’t see the way he’s looking at her. Doesn't want to acknowledge what's in his gaze, the look she sometimes sees him throwing her way. It bothers her, unsettles her, even angers her when she sees him look at her in this manner. 

When she’s done fussing over him, she steps back, giving him space, idly placing her hands behind her back, expression blank. That should do the trick. He'll be appeased with her taking care of him in such a small manner, a small weakness of his that she exploits.

If he knows she's taking advantage, it's just as likely that he doesn't care. He wants to believe that she does it because she wants to. That she's settled into playing house with him. The thought makes Korra's stomach sour.

“Take my arm,” he says gruffly, though his eyes are already calming. He clears his throat, looking away. “We’re already late.”

He guides her over to the Satomobile with a practiced sort of gentleness that belies his previous actions, large hand in the middle of her back. Tarrlok’s brow is furrowed, deep in some awful thought, and Korra wonders if he’s upset that he had to treat her in such a despicable manner. Or if he's upset with their situation. 

When they get in the front seat, he turns on the engine and turns to look at her. Korra meets his gaze, wondering what he wants, but he only reaches out to brush a strand of hair out of her face. Wordlessly. He then puts the mobile into drive, pulling onto the street. She turns away from him, brooding. Sometimes, she forgets that he's a manipulator, too.

As they ride silently in his Satomobile to the location of the rally, Korra muses that perhaps it’s flattering, the way he lets his hair down, so to speak, in front of her. When she first met him, he was perfect, a schmoozer, always full of tact. He never batted an eye with rudeness towards anyone. A skilled manipulator. A silver tongue with an agenda.

He’d always hid behind his veneer of a gentleman.

 _Sometimes it’s nice to peek behind the curtain_ , Korra thinks as they arrive. _I've seen behind his mask. I've seen him at his worst and he's not afraid to show it anymore._

Then, her stomach twists, hearing the roar of the crowd inside the venue. Hundreds of voices, raised in excitement.

It’s time to face the Equalists.

And smile while doing it.

_Play the game._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **AN:** I totally meant for this chapter to have us at least be at the rally, but then the chapter got long and would have gotten waaaaayy longer if I didn't split it off to the next chapter. ANYWAY. Love all the reviews, kudos, and excitement people. Thank you!!! ♥
> 
> I know we have a lot of Tarrlok and Korra interaction from the get-go here and that will continue for quite a bit of time, but I will be introducing more characters as the plot moves forward. Amon and Korra are going to be quite at odds for the time being, but we will have some development between the two brothers in the meantime.
> 
> ALSO. I know everyone always seems to say Tarrlok and Amon have blue eyes, but after re-watching the show I am CONVINCED that they actually have grey eyes. Seriously. No joke. Their eyes are so pale that I barely see any hint of blue in them, so I may lean more towards a grey-blue eye color with them, especially because Korra has really deep color in her eyes and these Northern folks kinda don't seem to. Anyone else notice that, or am I crazy?
> 
> In addition, Chapter 1 got edited again last night, so there are more details there than when this was originally posted.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Korra makes a speech. 
> 
> No one really gets what they want. Except, maybe Tarrlok.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **AN:** This is such a huge chapter, I don't even know how that happened :D comment if you enjoy!  
> 

The office he has commandeered provides an excellent vantage point, overlooking the front street of the grand hall. It’s here, in front of the darkened window, that he stands with his hands neatly behind his back, legs spread, hips and shoulders proudly squared.

The pair he’s been waiting on has arrived and he covertly watches them from above.

He’s always in the shadows.

Tarrlok effortlessly parks the Satomobile, looking crisp in his Equalist attire. It’s strange to see him without his traditional water tribe clothing, but it fills Amon with pride. His brother may hate all of this, _may hate him_ , but he certainly plays his part well. A feeling of warmth coils in Amon’s chest, observing from the shadows as his younger brother flips open one of the Satomobile mirrors, using it to examine himself carefully. Tilting his head, checking his hair, his smug smile. The soft crinkling of his eyes.

Tarrlok’s vain.

The fact does not mesh with Amon’s memory of him as a boy. Vanity is something he seems to have acquired with age. Idly, he wonders if it came when Tarrlok grew in height, when his face matured, or if it came from women fawning over him, building a baseless male egotism. It’s endlessly fascinating and distressing, trying to figure out all that he’s missed. All the time lost.

Amon’s jaw tightens behind his mask, eyes narrowing. _The time lost_ , all because his brother had been too afraid and weak to run away with him as a boy. He’d offered Tarrlok a chance at a new life and Tarrlok had refused. His brother had chosen to stay with their _father_ and the memory is always full of anger and snapping teeth.

The refusal had stung, more than Amon likes to admit. At the time, the emotional wound had caused him to instinctively lash out with verbal cruelty, so akin to their father’s. Perhaps if he had reasoned with the sensitive boy, connived a little harder, perhaps Tarrlok would have been with him at the start of the revolution, by his side willingly.

Alas. Reminiscing is futile.

It doesn’t matter now. This time, when Amon offered him redemption, he didn’t give Tarrlok the option to deny him a second time. His brother is cleansed of Yakone’s terrible heritage.

Tarrlok just needs to accept it as the gift it is.

_“I did this for your own good,” he’d whispered to his brother, sometime after his initial cleansing, in the hidden location he’d originally stashed Tarrlok before moving him to the Equalist prison._

_His brother had curled in on himself, as if trying to disappear. As if willing himself smaller. Long brown hair strewn all over his shoulders in wild waves. “No. No, you didn’t.” Tarrlok’s voice had been dull, empty. Soulless. “You did this because you wanted to. You did this because you can. You’ve always been like this.”_

_Amon had been crouching beside him on the floor, balancing on the balls of his feet. He’d wanted to pull Tarrlok into his arms and tell him it would be okay, that everything would be alright now, because he’ll take care of Tarrlok, just like he used to._

_However, when Amon reached out a hand to touch his younger brother’s own, Tarrlok had shot him a nasty glance, a hint of fire appearing in his gaze. For a moment, Amon didn’t recognize the look there, even the goading tone as Tarrlok said, “What do your followers think of you having a former bloodbender for a brother?”_

_As he spoke, Tarrlok had leaned away from Amon’s seeking hand, a blatant rejection of his offer of comfort. Inexplicably, it incensed Amon, causing red to spark across his vision. Sneering behind his mask, he’d shot forward and grabbed Tarrlok roughly by the back of his neck. He used his whole body to crowd Tarrlok against the wall, boxing him in physically. It’s an awkward position, with how they are both crouched on the floor. Amon leaned ever closer to hiss in Tarrlok’s ear. Threatening. “I’d advise you keep your mouth shut.”_

_The sound of Tarrlok’s heart racing had pounded in Amon’s head like the beat of a war drum._

_An achingly familiar sound._

_ {an echo of a much older memory haunts his mind in this moment. A voice, young, not yet dropped in pitch. “You’re scaring me, Noa.”} _

Shifting the memory away with a bitter taste in his mouth, Amon moves his focus to Tarrlok’s passenger. The ex-Avatar.

The very sight of her irritates him. He’d almost been disappointed when the Avatar came to Republic City. A young, naïve girl. Ignorantly idealistic. Blind to the criminal underbelly and the plight of the non-benders.

His father had raised him to destroy the Avatar. Beat it into him. Molded him into a weapon of remorseless destruction. Yakone had twisted him up so bad that no matter what action he took as he aged, somehow, he always still reflected the man he hated.

Even his brother, bleeding-heart Tarrlok, who couldn’t stomach to hurt animals as a kid, ended up showing the ugly side of his heritage at the end of it all. Yakone had left a deep scar in both of them, along with the taint of his vile bending, but at least Tarrlok no longer has to worry about that anymore.

_My gift to you, brother._

Amon alone bears the weight of his father’s sin on his shoulders. He struggles with the terrible, insatiable urge to bend others to his will when things don’t go as planned. It’s a heady sensation of power, addicting, knowing that no one can get the best of him. He’s in a league of his own and always has been.

It’s vile. A curse.

He’d traveled the world after he left his family. Saw benders taking advantage of those who could not bend. No matter where he went, he saw corruption. He saw no one standing up for the weak. At night, he easily crushed benders who thought they were above the law.

It didn’t take him long to realize that he was a worse monster than any of them. Afterwards, self-loathing dragged behind him like shackles. He soon began developing a way to destroy bending, a way to stop it all. If the Avatar could steal his father’s bending, Amon could figure it out too.

And, he did.

After all the years of honing his craft, building a loyal following, creating a worthy cause that people fell in line to join, after killing his past with a false narrative, becoming the mask…the Avatar presented itself as this…this absurd _woman_ _child_. Not even much of a challenge, really. It hadn’t even been hard to frighten her. He had become the object of her nightmares with the barest of efforts.

Amon feels cheated, somehow. She had been an unworthy opponent. Too young, too inexperienced. It had been like taking candy from a baby. She’d had raw power, _sure_ , but little else.

Below, Tarrlok is exiting the car. The ex-Avatar doesn’t. Stubbornness is in the lines of her jaw.

She remains sitting, staring out into the distance. Seeing this, Tarrlok goes to her side of the car and opens the door for her, like a perfect gentleman. Only then does she deign to exit the vehicle. Tarrlok’s eyes remain on her as she passes by him, close enough that her shoulder brushes his chest.

Tarrlok visibly exhales, reaching for her.

“Oh, little brother. You are so transparent,” Amon utters to himself lowly, watching the scene unfolding with distaste.

To the trained eye, this scene is a power play. It’s almost as if she _knows_ that Tarrlok will go out of his way for her. She probably plays off his weakness like it’s a violin. Amon can only imagine how twisted up she has his sweet-natured brother. His fists clench at his sides.

He should have never allowed Tarrlok to keep her. For a dense girl, she’s far too clever when it comes to his kin.

Amon’s lips twist into a sneer as he watches Tarrlok try to link his arm with hers as they ascend the stone stairs. She tries to pull away and a flash of anger crosses Tarrlok’s face in response. He grabs her roughly and pulls her to his side, forcing her hand into the crook of his elbow.

She’s saying something to him. Based off the look on her face, it can’t be anything nice. 

Gripping her chin roughly, so hard that his fingertips dig into her cheeks, Tarrlok looks down at her, livid. For a minute, it looks like he’s going to kiss her out of frustration, but thankfully he shows some form of restraint and does not.

Closing his eyes, Amon inhales slowly, slipping under his brother’s skin. It’s raw self-indulgence, sensing the beat of Tarrlok’s heart, simply listening. His brother is stressed, irritated, blood pressure rising…

With a thought and a simple sigh, eyes open only slightly, Amon lowers his brother’s blood pressure, slows Tarrlok’s heartrate, soothing his body. Painless. Simple. Subtle.

Tarrlok would probably call it ‘invasive’.

“Amon,” his Lieutenant, Lei, walks into the office. “Councilman Tarrlok and-”

“I’m aware,” Amon replies flatly, stepping away from the window. He shouldn’t have done that. Used his bending on a foolish whim. “Tell me, has Councilman Tenzin been placed in the study? He and I have some matters to discuss.”

The other man nods sharply, always efficient. “Yes, he’s on the second floor as you requested. He’s cooperating rather well, considering all the trouble he gave us before. The fact that he has nothing left to fight for certainly helps.”

Amon looks at the map that he’s splayed across the fine office desk. “Is he aware of what I am going to be informing him of?”

“He may have an idea,” Lei replies slowly, tasting the words. “He’s not going to like it. He won’t want a frontline base placed on the island with his family.”

“A pity. I find I don’t quite care about what he wants.” Amon brushes a finger over the image of the Island on the map. “We will need the blockade in place to help install new underwater mines in the bay. The ships commandeered from the failed United Republic Navy will sit behind those. How are we doing with recruits?”

“It’s a crap shoot. The recently equalized are resistant and angry. The non-benders that existed in the Navy are more willing to join us.”

“As expected,” Amon comments dryly. “Regardless. We already have a large militarized force with the help of Hiroshi’s technology. Once the bay is suitably fortified once more, we will press into the rest of the continent.”

The Lieutenant leans over the military map, seeing the different notations and marks for blockades, military bases, and arrows where they intend to eventually push further into the Earth Kingdom for equalization. “Brilliant. Soon, all will be cleansed. We will never have to live under the oppression of the benders again.”

“Nothing can stand in the way of our total victory,” Amon utters quietly before straightening up from leaning over the desk. “Everything is falling into place.”

The black-haired man smiles widely, genuine and admiring. “Just as you said it would, Amon.”

The blatant hero worship is something Amon will never grow tired of. Alas, he needs his most avid follower to get the dog and pony show running downstairs.

“When you speak to Tarrlok,” He grabs a sheet of paper off his desk and holds it out to the other man. “Give this to the former Avatar. She’s to use this as her guide, considering how uninspiring she tends to be.”

“Excellent, sir. Will you be standing with her on stage to add credibility to her words?”

“No,” Amon replies. He’s thought on this for some time. No, he wants the ex-Avatar to struggle in front of the hostile crowd. His presence would only calm his followers. She doesn’t deserve such a break. At least, not this time.

He needs it to be realistic. It will be painful for her to not sound like she believes her words…his followers will push her into being a convincing advocate.

The other man takes the document, glancing over Amon’s familiar handwriting with a smile. “You know, I think the councilman has a soft spot for that atrocious girl. The rumors must be true. Remember when he was putting together that task force? He-”

Amon tenses, glad that his mask hides his expression. He struggles to keep his tone even. “I remember. I wouldn’t put stock in rumors. Idle gossip is for the uneducated masses.”

“But-”

The last thing Amon wants to talk about is his brother’s insane infatuation with the very reason their childhood had been a living hell. He interrupts Lei rather sharply. “Lieutenant.”

The other man stops talking immediately, still halted by the office door. “Yes?”

Feeling particularly spiteful, Amon says, “Tell Tarrlok he’s not allowed to help her on stage. I don’t want to hear that he tried to soothe the crowd when she takes the podium. Let her flounder.”

His right-hand man grins widely and inclines his head in acknowledgment.  
  


* * *

  
The halls are revoltingly decorated in Equalist colors and scarlet red banners with Amon’s mask in the center of them. Korra scowls up at banners, hating how these reminders of how she’s failed everyone have taken over buildings everywhere.

Even on the drive over, she had seen proof of Amon’s reign everywhere. Symbols of Equality put on every major building, signs asking the remaining benders to turn themselves in for cleansing. It’s like the world has gone mad, turned upside down overnight.

 _I have to fix this,_ Korra thinks miserably, staring up at the pale mask, soullessly staring down at her from the hanging fabric.

“Councilman,” a terribly familiar voice says aloud, coming up beside her and Tarrlok. The Lieutenant. Korra’s scowl deepens almost immediately.

Tarrlok nods to him. “I trust things have been going well today?”

The serious man hums under his breath. “Swimmingly. The faithful had some demonstrations earlier this morning, telling their tales of how benders ruined their lives. It is…cathartic for them to move beyond their years of oppression.”

Korra rolls her eyes in disgust. “So, you all just get together and complain about how awful bending is, even though you’ve been taking away everyone’s bending? Doesn’t it get boring just agreeing with each other? There’s no one to oppose you now. Move on. Seriously.”

The Lieutenant smacks her on the back of her head. “Keep your insolent thoughts to yourself.”

Sneering at him, Korra takes a threatening step forward, but Tarrlok pulls her back. He’s giving the Lieutenant a chastising look. “I’ll ask you to not hit Korra. She’s here, as asked. There’s no need for the physical abuse.”

Giving Tarrlok a strangely knowing look, the Lieutenant holds out a document to Korra. “This is for you. From Amon.”

Taking the sheet hatefully, Korra stares down at it, curious, then she growls, nearly crushing it. “He’s insane. I’m not saying any of this.”

“You will. Otherwise, the crowd will eat you alive. Nobody quite likes you anymore, ex-Avatar.”

Then, the odious man pulls Tarrlok aside and whispers something in his ear. Tarrlok’s face hardens, but he nods. “I understand.”

With a resigned look, Tarrlok tells Korra to follow him to the stage. Reluctantly, she does, traipsing behind him in her usual loud fashion. It doesn’t get the reaction she’s hoping for. He doesn’t react at all, too engrossed in whatever he’s thinking of saying to the masses.

Stepping onto the stage is blinding, the lights hot and blazing. Dead ahead is the gathered crowd of Equalists, their voices raising dangerously as they see her in Tarrlok’s shadow. The sound of hundreds of voices echoing off the walls of the large room is deafening. Korra feels her hands shake and she tries to steel herself against her frazzled nerves. She’s not ready for this. Then again, she may never be ready for this.

_Remember, you are the Avatar. These are your people, too._

_No,_ she corrects herself as she walks forward to stand beside Tarrlok at the podium. _You were the Avatar. Now, you are nothing._

She hasn’t seen Amon in the flesh yet and for that, Korra is grateful.

With a graceful smile, Tarrlok begins his opening words of Equality, his ease in front of the crowd oozing off him. Korra marvels at how easily he becomes this…charming entity. Tarrlok’s teeth flash disarmingly and he has this way of looking out at the crowd from under lowered lashes, giving him a strangely magnetizing pull on everyone.

It’s not fair how good he is at this. It seems that crowd control runs in his blood as well.

As he speaks, Korra allows herself to fade away mentally, the cadence of his voice the only thing echoing in the back of her mind. A sea of faces swims before her, listening, paying intrigued attention. She doesn’t want to know if they are looking at her or if they are gazing at Tarrlok.

Dazedly, her mouth growing dry, Korra looks up at him, just to her right, standing at the podium. Tarrlok has a charming grin on his lips, eyes bright and expressive. Even his hands speak for him. His voice is confident, smooth, and he doesn’t stumble or stutter a single time.

She feels sick. How can she possibly compare? Her hands are sweating with nerves. The crowd is eating out of his palms. Aren’t these the very people that wanted him executed for being a bloodbender? Spirits, he’s skilled at turning people around.

His body shifts towards Korra slightly. When he gestures to her, Korra pulls herself back into her body, reorienting herself. Re-associating with reality. He must be talking about her now.

“…I know you all have been wondering about what has come of the former Avatar. As you can see, she is well, adjusting to her new life as a non-bender.” There are a few murmurs, an undercurrent of anger in the crowd now, as they focus on her. Tarrlok continues with confidence, pouring his enthusiasm into the crowd. “It’s my pleasure to re-introduce you to Korra, who has recently taken her vows of loyalty to our great leader, Amon.”

There’s a hesitant cheer that crawls through the crowd and Korra struggles to keep her emotions off her face. Vow of loyalty? To _Amon_? She hasn’t even seen the closet jerkbender since he last spoke to her in her cell, let alone given him any crazy vows.

Spirits, she hopes no one asks her to recite it on stage to prove it, because there’s no way she can even choke her way through that type of flaming garbage.

“She has spent many weeks contemplating her treatment of the non-benders. She understands the plights keenly, now that she is one of us. She understands that bending is a blight upon this world and that it is our duty to spread Equality to every corner of the planet.”

There are a few grumblings and suspicious mumblings. Korra feels the need to dry heave, inhaling hard as saliva pools in her mouth very suddenly. She’s going to throw up. How is she going to make it through this? She hasn’t even started speaking yet and the crowd is beginning to get rowdy and irritable.

“Korra, the floor is yours,” Tarrlok is saying now, looking at her meaningfully. When she doesn’t move, he grasps her hand, hidden behind the podium, and gently tugs her closer to him. His hand is warm, comforting, keeping her chained to this reality.

Oddly enough, Korra feels him deposit something into her palm. Carefully, she keeps her confusion off her face. Holding onto what feels like a scrap of paper.

Then, he steps away, starts walking toward the side of the stage and Korra feels her stomach turn madly. She starts to reach out to him, but quickly realizes how weak that will make her look in front of the crowd. Oh, how he must love this, leaving her to the piranhas. This must be his revenge; this is his payback for her causing him so much trouble today. And, for the past few weeks.

How can he leave her up here, alone?!

Hatred burns up her esophagus in a wave and she has to swallow it down, because she’s on stage in front of hundreds of Equalists who would rather tear her apart than listen to her. 

Their faces swim in front of her and her mind blanks. What does she say? She’s so angry at them all, so angry that they all believe benders need to be Equalized in the first place! _Make stuff up. Play a role._ “Hey…all. I’m sure most of you know who I am. I’m Korra. You know. The f-former Avatar.” Her voice is shaky, unsure.

Disgruntled noises and boos come from the crowd, so loudly that Korra almost withers into nothing behind the podium. What is with these people? Taking a deep breath, Korra tries again. “I know I’ve said some…pretty…insensitive things. In the past.”

An obnoxious voice calls out from the crowd, “You told us we were oppressing ourselves!”

“Yeah! I remember you said bending was the greatest thing ever!”

Korra cringes, remembering the comments in question. Her nose wrinkles as she gives an awkward little laugh. “Aha…but did I really…mean it in a bad way?”

The same, screechy man voice calls out again, “You did! Evil Avatar! You want us oppressed! You don’t want us to live happy lives!”

Riled, practically forgetting the sheet on the podium that’s supposed to tell her what to say, Korra points in the general direction of the agitator -who she is pretty sure is the guy she first saw handing out Amon flyers when she first arrived in Republic City- shouting, “I’M NOT THE AVATAR AND I’M NOT EVIL! Who wanted to clear out of the gangs from our streets? ME! Who wanted to end curfews on non-benders? ME! Who wanted to find a way to get a non-bender voice on the council? ME, that’s who!”

The naysayer has finally shut his mouth, seemingly gobsmacked.

With weeks of anger and bitterness clawing its way up her throat, Korra points out at them all. “I am not your enemy. I have emotions and a family, just like you! I’m not this symbol of hatred that you’ve made me out to be. This may come as a surprise, but I have feelings, too. I want you to feel safe in your homes at night. I don’t want anyone to have to worry about their jobs or how to take care of their families. But I also want you to understand that there are a lot of people hurting right now. Their whole lives have changed.” She finds herself pleading with them. “I ask you to be patient, please. With the newly equalized. They are lost. They are scared. And hurt. Don’t extend your disdain and hatred towards them just because they were once benders; give them the fair chance they deserve. Isn’t that what you all preach? Brotherhood and sisterhood?”

There’s utter silence. No one is cheering. No one is yelling. Everyone is standing there, staring, as if in shock. Korra can’t tell if it’s a bad thing or a good thing.

A bruising grip takes Korra by the bicep. She turns her head, fist clenched and ready to give someone a shiner, but then she sees the Lieutenant standing there. “I think that’s enough of your dramatics for one day,” he says tightly, looking displeased.

With that, he pulls her to the side stage and off to the back rooms. Tossing her away from him in disgust, his blue eyes hard, he says, “Stay here and wait for Tarrlok. We have other speakers today and your speech was pathetic. I need to go fix whatever damage you’ve inflicted.”

“Screw you,” she mutters, loathing him with the flames of the sun.

Quick, like a falcon diving in the sky, he’s upon her, grabbing the neck of her shirt hard, pulling her eye level. “Someday, Tarrlok is going to grow tired of slaking his thirsts on you and when he does, he’s going to toss you aside like the nothing you are. When that day comes, I’ll be here, waiting. Then, it’s back to prison you go, never to be heard of again.”

It feels like rotting meat is festering in her stomach as she stares up at him, digesting his foul words. She feels cold. “Then you’d better be ready to wait a long time, pal.”

“You’d better hope so…but don’t hold your breath. He’s a fickle man,” The Lieutenant replies mockingly before pushing her away. He turns and leaves, heading back towards the stage. 

Korra tries to shake off her nerves from everything that just transpired, remembering that Tarrlok had given her something on stage. Curious, she reaches into her pocket. She opens the small slip of paper, reading fast. _Second level. Study room five. Be quick._ She frowns at it, wondering. Then it clicks. Tenzin could be there. _  
  
_

* * *

  
Quickly, seeing that no one is looking to grab her for anything at the moment, Korra makes her way for the side stairs, trying to be unassuming. For the first time, she’s glad she’s wearing bland Equalist clothing. It helps her blend in.

She’s not sure her speech earlier is going to put her in hot water with Amon or not, considering she completely ignored his list of things for her to say. Regardless, she’s going to find Tenzin and damn the consequences if she gets caught.

Finding the second level isn’t hard and Korra scans the different doors, noting offices and labeled studies. When she finds study room five, she hoists the door open.

When she steps inside, Korra’s head is nearly knocked off her shoulders by a wildly swinging chair. She ducks and gasps, hearing a snarled, familiar male voice saying, “You have a lot of nerve forcing me to speak to your minions, you madman!”

Korra knows that voice. “Tenzin!” She cries out, arms protecting her head. “It’s me!”

The next blow that she’s expecting never falls. Lowering her arms, Korra blinks upward, seeing a surprised expression on her mentor’s face. Tenzin blinks down at her in shock, looking out of place in normal clothing. “Korra! How did you- how are you here? Are you alright?” Tenzin leans down to help her stand, a hopeful light coming to his serious grey gaze. “I’m sorry, I thought you were Amon. He had me stuffed in here for a ‘chat’. He’s cooking up some awful plans for this city. I have night terrors just thinking of what he will unveil next.”

So, that’s where Tarrlok must have gone. To see his brother and stall him. Korra refuses to feel gratitude.

Before she can think on it further, Tenzin wraps her in his arms warmly. Korra feels her heart melt almost instantly, a gasp of emotion slipping from her lips as she clutches at him tightly. The tight pain that has been a constant companion in her chest slowly dissipates with the familiar comfort of her mentor. “I’ve missed you,” she says in an embarrassing, wobbly voice.

“We’ve all missed you, Korra,” he replies with blatant sorrow in his voice. “When you were captured and Equalized…so much of the resistance against the Equalists crumbled. Amon has too many followers and they are too well equipped. We were all caught unaware by the strength of his forces. I feared the worst for you when you went missing.”

Korra feels like crying, a well of emotion building inside her to a breaking point. “I’m so sorry, Tenzin. I failed everyone! I should have listened to you when you said I wasn’t ready to be here. I’ve ruined everything.”

“It’s not your fault. What happened is fate. What we do next will help build our future. We will overcome this.”

“But…is your…?”

He steps away from her, his face falling dramatically. He looks exhausted, weak. “I am no longer an airbender.”

Devastation is a wet blanket clinging to Korra. “And…the kids?”

A horrid shudder wracks his body. He shakes his head. “They were not spared. They are taking it all as hard as I am. I’ve failed my father’s legacy.”

He looks defeated and Korra can’t stand seeing it. He’s supposed to always have the answer, a word of wisdom, something! But not this.

“I want...I plan to find a way to fix this, Tenzin. For you, for everyone.” Korra feels like her words are empty, because what has she accomplished? A big fat zero. She could barely accomplish anything before she was equalized; she’d been too busy playing pro-bending and chasing boys.

A single finger tilts her head up so that Tenzin can gaze into her ocean eyes. “Your soul looks tired, wandering the open skies,” he utters, strangely poetic. “What happened to you, when you disappeared? Your spiritual aura is diminished greatly.”

She’s skeptical that he can see all of that with a simple look, but he always said the eyes are the window to soul.

Korra feels her shoulders sink miserably. “I wasn’t all the spiritual to begin with, but I was in the Equalist prison for…” she shudders. “Weeks. I think.”

His face pales even further. “ _Weeks?_ Why on earth did they keep you there for so long? Amon had full control within forty-eight hours.”

“I don’t want to talk about it.” She doesn’t. She doesn’t like to think of that dark, dank hellhole of a place. A place where her soul almost fled her body more than once. A place where her heart broke and her dignity shattered. “I’m with Tarrlok now. I’m sure you heard.”

He looks torn between being displeased and relieved. “I had heard. I just…I had half hoped it wasn’t true.”

Confused, Korra feels her eyebrows furrow. “Why? I mean, it’s better than being locked in a literal prison.”

She assumes Tenzin simply holds a grudge against his rival councilman. They never did get along. Tarrlok was always trying to maneuver politically, trying to gain more power. What Tenzin says instead is unexpected and slightly embarrassing.

“I worry for you, with him,” Tenzin says seriously, gaze solemn. “Ever since he first saw you, he’s had this obsession…”

Normally, Korra would vehemently deny this. Normally, she would find this to be absolutely crazy. But now, she’s not so sure her denials are accurate. “You have enough on your shoulders, Tenzin. Your family…you don’t need to worry about me.”

He rests a tentative hand on hers, looking world weary. The loss of his bending is heavy in his gaze. Korra can only imagine the added weight of his father’s expectations sitting on his shoulders. The airbenders…have ended with Tenzin and his children.

The pain he must feel. Knowing that he couldn’t prevent the extinction of an entire culture. Korra feels her chest tighten, seeing the sorrow in the lines of his familiar, comforting face.

“Korra,” he says awkwardly, looking like he’d rather not say what he’s about to say. “Tarrlok hasn’t…been improper towards you, has he? Pressured you into anything that you aren’t comfortable with? It’s just not done, having a young, vulnerable woman living with an older man. It’s just…not done.”

A typical Republic City response. Korra had heard of many age gap betrothals in Water Tribe culture. Her mother, Senna, had told her it wasn’t unusual during her visits with her parents. In the tribal culture, men often did not want to promise their daughter to a young man who hadn’t proven himself capable of providing for a family.

Korra had been able to see the wisdom in that, considering how harsh living in arctic could be. Hunting for food, keeping calm in storms, having resources to live off of, fighting off unexpected raiders, having a respected voice at tribal meetings…all of it was important in Water Tribe culture. Not so much in Republic City.

“I know how to handle him,” she says finally. This at least, is mostly true. “He’s still upset about the whole fight we had in his office when I asked him to let my friends out of jail. Especially when I told him to go pack snow over obeying him. I highly doubt you need to be worrying about unseemliness.”

That last bit is quite possibly a lie. Not to mention the situation with her clothes this morning. Her face nearly heats in humiliation at the thought. That situation could have escalated rather quickly and Korra has no doubt that Tarrlok would have gone through with it.

“Korra,” Tenzin looks exasperated. Dealing with teenage girls is something he has not quite mastered. “Just because a man is angry with you doesn’t mean he doesn’t still want yo-”

“Anyway…” Korra interrupts loudly, not wanting to hear it.

The vein in his temple throbs briefly. “Korra, I’m being serious here! I don’t like talking about these matters either, especially not in regards to _him_. You barely even know how manipulative he is! If you honestly think you’re going to play games with Tarrlok, you’re already a step behind!”

Korra frowns, thinking on that. She mutters, “Certainly doesn’t seem that way.” But, it does sow some doubt in her mind.

Tenzin rubs his eyes in frustration. “Please. _Please_ just be careful, Korra. He already has you right where he wants you; remember that.”

Feeling disturbed, because Korra doesn’t want to think of Tarrlok orchestrating the way they dance around each other at home, she tries to change the subject again. “He is the least of our worries! We need to think of ways to defeat Amon.”

Sighing, Tarrlok paces the room, thinking. Then, he pauses, lighting up. An idea.

“There is something. Something that could help.” He comes closer to whisper, as if someone might overhear them. “There is an old book on Energybending. I need you to find it. The Equalists have started emptying the Republic City library of everything regarding bending. They are destroying and hiding the knowledge, as if benders never existed. My father had written a tome on the art of Energybending. If you can find it, perhaps you can save us all.”

“Energybending?” Korra frowns. “I’ve never heard of that…though I did see some strange visions from Aang around taking the bending away from Yakone. Perhaps that was it.” In frustration, she rubs her forehead. “I need to find Mako, Bolin, and Asami. I need my team. Any leads? Have you seen them?”

Tenzin’s shoulders sag. “I truly don’t know where Mako and Bolin have gone. I believe the have gone underground. Many ex-benders have, thinking to start some form of counter-revolution. But Asami is with her father. He’s been…re-educating her.”

That doesn’t sound good. _Poor Asami,_ Korra thinks in dismay. _I wonder if I’d be allowed to see her…_

Thinking fast, sensing her time with Tenzin is growing short, Korra says, “Is there anything I can do for you? Any way I can help you with the family? I’m not…allowed to visit. Tarrlok is buying me time to see you here and-”

Scowling, Tenzin says, “Tarrlok? _Ugh_ , Korra.” He throws his hands up in the air. “He could be betraying you to Amon as we speak! You cannot trust a single hair on Tarrlok’s head!”

Aggravated, Korra replies, “Or he’s distracting Amon as a favor to me! Ever thought of that?”

They hear footsteps, sounding on the stairways. Tenzin turns to look at her sharply. “You have to leave. They cannot see that you have been speaking to me!”

Korra sees the window and runs to it. Only two stories up. She can scale it. Tenzin looks wild, “You can’t just leap out the window without your bending!”

“Just because I can’t…bend…doesn’t mean I can’t climb a stupid wall!” Cracking it open, Korra swings a leg out. “Goodbye, Tenzin. I’ll find a way to see you again.”

“Find the book, Korra,” he pleads. “It’s important that you find it.”

With that, Korra scales the wall, a little precariously. It isn’t so hard, but she scraps her knees and bangs her elbow once. With a final grunt, she jumps the final few feet to the ground, racing over to stand innocently by Tarrlok’s car.

Waiting.

When he comes outside a short time later, Korra makes sure to watch him walk up to her the entire way, holding his gaze with her own. He likes that; she knows because he puffs his chest out a bit and widens his shoulders. Plastering a disarming grin on her face, Korra asks him, “Can I drive home? Say yes?”

“Sure.” His eyes aren’t on her when he says this, but Korra doesn’t notice.

His eyes are looking up at the masked figure closing the window Korra had exited only a few minutes prior. Tarrlok’s eyes drift back to Korra, who is busying herself with a mini dance of excitement over being allowed to drive the car. “Thank you, thank you!” She squeals happily, eager to do something other than sit in their home.

He allows himself to lounge in the passenger seat, grinning widely as she revs the engine with a heavy hand. Before they pull away, Tarrlok glances back to where his brother had been glowering down at them from behind his mask.

The window is empty.

Tarrlok smiles without mirth.

“What are you grinning about?” Korra asks, oblivious as the wind whips through their hair. She drives fast; he doesn’t mind. She looks alive now, stars in her eyes as she zooms about.

He thinks his brother would love to throw her in a box and sink her to the bottom of the sea, never to be seen or heard from again. In his all-or-nothing mind, that would eliminate the last thing standing in between he and Tarrlok rekindling their brotherhood. Things would be like the ‘good old times’, but without anyone lording over them.

Except Noatak. Because he’s always lorded himself over Tarrlok. Tarrlok’s smile widens as he leans his head back against the seat, taking in the sun, eyes closed. His brother is an excellent conniver, exploiter. Tarrlok is better, because he knows what buttons to press.

Lying, Tarrlok says pleasantly to Korra, “Oh, nothing for you to worry about. Just glad we’re done sucking up to the crowd. Take the long way home; it’s nice out today.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **AN:** Comments and kudos are loved!! You guys are fabulous. I love all my commenters, you guys brighten my day.
> 
> Also...aha...just a bit of a forewarning here. While primarily we are focusing on Korralok in these initial chapters, Amorra will come waaaay later. These two are not going to get along for quite some time. I am going to be delving in Tarrlok and Amon's relationship as well, so hopefully that isn't too terrifying for everyone.


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tarrlok dreams.
> 
> Korra puts her schemes into action.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **AN:** Sorry for the delay in posting this...but there is likely going to be another time gap due to the fact that I may have broken my thumb jumping my horse. I was able to finish this chapter up, but it took some time due to my hand slowing my typing down big time. Going to have to get to the Dr sometime next week to x-ray the darn thing to make sure it doesn't need any adjusting to heal properly T.T
> 
> Anyway, thanks for all the lovely reviews, you guys rock XD

_He’s skating on the ice. His brother picks him up whenever he falls, brushing him off, checking him for injuries._

_Noatak is precise like that, for a nine-year-old. It’s like he’s made it his raison d'être. He always takes care of Tarrlok. When they play, he’s never rough, even though he could be, their size difference still great._

_Tarrlok adores him, admires him. Noatak is his favorite person in the whole world and his heart swells in this dream, just seeing how things used to be._

_When they learn that they are waterbenders, his brother excels at every movement their father demonstrates. While Noatak enjoys it, Tarrlok doesn’t, finds himself struggling to pick things up as quickly as his older brother._

_Noatak makes everything look effortless. Tarrlok is jealous; he wishes he could make Dad happy too._

_When he expresses his concerns to his brother, Noatak helps him and guides him carefully when their father isn’t looking. He’s always looking out for Tarrlok, even though Noatak is clearly their father’s favorite._

_Tarrlok remembers the burning pain of this, even in the dream. It’s like a fiery brand over his heart. What boy doesn’t want his father’s love?_

_The dream shifts, shatters. Everything goes dark, then red. A moon, bloody and ominous._

_Things change when their father teaches them to bloodbend._

_Noatak, ever the prodigy, becomes something else entirely._

_Tarrlok barely remembers how it all slowly changed, all he knows is it did._

_The dreams fractures, ghosts of pain and shame and horror tickling at the back of Tarrlok’s mind._

_He awakens in his dream, feeling odd. Something is wrong. His stomach sinks. He’s in his childhood bedroll. The familiar scent of woodsmoke and fur._

_ {not this memory, please not this…} _

_There’s a strange weight on his chest and it’s what woke him. Pale, detached eyes are looking down at him and Tarrlok recoils, trying to scoot away, but he’s pinned to the floor._

_It feels like he can’t breathe, he’s getting dizzy, his limbs feel lethargic. He’s not in control of his own body. Is he dying?_

_“Calm down,” his fourteen-year-old brother orders, his voice just starting to break with puberty. There’s a rasp beginning to form in his tones, lower in pitch. Rusty. “I’m just practicing something.”_

_Practicing? They practice every day with their father!_

_“Noa,” he whispers, scared. “Let me up. I just want to sleep.” He can’t move and he’s stuck on his back, as if glued to the floor. His lungs feel tight, far too small. The way his brother is crouching over him on his bedroll is terrifying, and Noatak’s careful detachment reeks of dominance._

_He may as well be straddling Tarrlok’s chest, pinning his hands above his head, holding a knife to his throat, with how much power he holds over him._

_Though Tarrlok’s dreaming, he wishes he could look away from this memory._

_“I’m not hurting you, am I?” Noatak’s voice is dry._

_Well, he’s not hurting him, no. He’s made Tarrlok helpless. “You’re scaring me, Noa,” Tarrlok whimpers, pleading with him with wide open eyes. He’s afraid his bladder is going to release. “I’m scared.”_

_Suddenly, the strange sensation of dizziness, shallow breathing, and heavy limbs fades away. His brother’s vastly dilated pupils constrict violently as he releases his psychic hold on Tarrlok’s body. Noatak absently cracks his neck, coming back into himself, exhaling hard. Tarrlok tries to curl into his roll, shaking uncontrollably._

_Seeing unshed tears in his little brother’s eyes, he swoops down to press his forehead to Tarrlok’s. He nuzzles Tarrlok’s nose with his own in a gentle eskimo kiss, physically worming his way closer to Tarrlok. “I’m sorry. You know I need to practice so I don’t hurt you so bad when father asks us to bend each other.”_

_Deep inside, Tarrlok thinks this is a lie. His brother is going to hurt him. Has hurt him. Yakone’s constant firm hand on Noatak’s neck has created a deep-seated resentment, a sensation of no power in his own life._

_Seeing this now, Tarrlok knows his brother used him as an outlet to gain a sense of control under Yakone’s totalitarian tutelage. Their father may have favored Noatak, but he was hard on him to be a master of his craft._

_Noatak never bends their father, but he certainly bends his younger brother._

_And, he’s good at it. Sometimes, almost subtly slipping into Tarrlok’s body at odd times of the day. Like a thin needle, slipping just under the flesh, just because he can. Perhaps this controlling habit formed out of his concern of their father harming Tarrlok in one of his rages, but eventually it turned from concerned, ghostly touches crawling up Tarrlok’s spine to possessive, full body sensations of someone else riding along, residing in Tarrlok’s bones._

_He claims it makes him feel closer to Tarrlok, being able to reach out and touch him wherever he is. And, it does. And, it’s almost painless._

_Almost._

Tarrlok wakes with a loud shout, clenching a hand to his bare, heaving chest. With wild eyes, he looks around his dark room and reminds himself that he’s not in his childhood hut. He’s in his own bed. His own home.

There’s a tentative knock at the door and a soft voice. “Tarrlok? Are you alright in there?”

His heart leaps unexpectedly. _Korra._

Ridiculously, his mouth goes dry and his eyes catch on the closed door of his large master bedroom. “I’m fine,” he says thickly, voice hoarse with sleep. “Just a dream.”

“Well, gee. Next time, don’t scare me half to death,” she complains. “I thought you were being murdered. Seeing as that’s not the case, do you need anything before I go back to bed? Water or something?”

Tarrlok inhales sharply.

He wants to ask her to come into his room. The urge, the need to ask her is so extreme that his stomach tightens. He envisions her walking in, her innocent, pretty blue-green eyes catching on his bare chest. His sheets, pooled around his waist and well-shaped thighs. He wonders if she’d blush.

He’s ashamed of the way he thickens between his thighs, swelling with desire at the thought of her lying beneath him in his bed. Of her bare flesh, sliding against his, tangled in his bedsheets. Tarrlok shouldn’t think of her that way, but now that his mind is on it, he can’t stop. It's been awhile since he's had a woman under him. Ever since Korra came to live with him, anyway. It didn't seem right, to do that to her, to make her listen to him fucking someone. Her opinion of him isn't very high and he imagines it would be worse after something like that, just so he could get this...this feeling out of his system. 

He'd only be imagining it was her anyway. 

“N-no. I don’t need anything,” he lies through his teeth, loathing himself.

His fingers tighten in his sheets.

It’s absurd, wanting this irritating creature that he lives with. What’s worse; he’d felt this way even before she became his prisoner. If she even had an inkling of an idea of his thoughts right now…

“Oh. Alright. Goodnight, Tarrlok.” The sound of her feet walking back to her room is loud in the silent house.

He imagines he’d be gentle. The first time, anyway. He’d use his experience to make her purr under his tongue, his hands…and the part of him that literally aches to be at home inside of her. He wonders what she tastes like and he can’t help but think of it any time she goes to fix his hair, wondering if she’d dig her fingers into his scalp when his tongue is between her thighs.

Tarrlok stifles a groan, thinking of nuzzling her clit with his nose, fantasizing about what she'd sound like with his name on her lips.

_And she’ll have no choice but to love you, because you’ve got her in your web, trapped like a beautiful butterfly. She has nowhere else to go now._

Which, naturally, makes him no better than his brother and his dealings with Tarrlok. The thought sours him and he flops back against his many fluffy pillows in aggravation.

_I’m not a monster. I want her to feel affection for me. Of sorts. I don’t want to own her._

A darker thought coils in the uglier part of his mind. _Don’t you?  
  
_

* * *

The next morning, Korra scarfs down her breakfast ravenously. Tarrlok watches her, brow furrowed, suspicious of her overly extreme enthusiasm. There are circles under his eyes and Korra thinks he looks a little grouchier than usual.

“You’re…rather…bright this morning. What’s going on?” He sips his tea elegantly, shadows in his eyes as he watches her.

He’s noted the Equalist-bland clothing she’s wearing.

Putting down the apple she’s just bit, Korra gives him a bright grin. “You know, I think I’m going to go outside today.”

He’s giving her a dry glance and Korra can practically hear him saying, ‘elaborate’ in his snooty tone. He doesn’t say anything, but the look is blatant enough. “As in, our backyard, or…?”

Her hands still on the teapot as she’s preparing to pour. _Our?_ She can’t get used to that, when he acts like this is their home that they share out of the goodness of their hearts. Korra keeps a frown off her face, instead opting to answer while pouring the lovely jasmine into her teacup. “I’m going to the library. No one will recognize me in this getup.” _I hope._

“The library.”

She quirks an eyebrow at him in confusion. “Yes…?”

“The library. With books.”

“You are beginning to irritate me, Tarrlok.”

He smirks then, that smug smirk that sends most women into a swoon. “Oh, I just didn’t think that was your sort of place. I frankly didn’t think you could read.”

Reddening, Korra hisses, “ _You are such a jerk_! Of course, I can read!”

Tarrlok butters some bread, pale eyes flickering over Korra occasionally. “What’s sparked this interest? It’s not something Tenzin has put you up to, is it? That would be a very bad idea, Korra.”

Mind thinking of things that will either throw him off or hurt him, Korra lies smoothly, “It has nothing to do with Tenzin. I just want out of this house.”

The words _‘away from you’_ are hovering unspoken, like a disease.

His jaw tenses and the corners of his eyes tighten subtly. Korra hit her mark, though she pretends like she hadn’t been aiming for anything.

Those chilly eyes don’t believe her intentions, but she can tell he wants to believe her. Which, is what makes it that much easier to get away with. “I’m warning you, Korra. You’d better not be doing something that’s going to get us all killed.”

“You’re paranoid,” she breathes to him as she stands up from the table, sunlight bouncing off her hair. Her attempt at soothing his ruffled feathers. “I’ll be home in a bit, I promise.”

Tarrlok’s lips purse as he watches her. “You’ll be home by dinner?”

He’s overbearing without even realizing it. Korra can almost taste how hard it is for him to not be more demanding. In fact, she can almost sense that he wants to keep her home out of…what, misplaced worry over her well-being?

It isn’t exactly his best kept secret that he worries about her, especially after the whole angry mob debacle all those weeks ago where Korra got roughed up.

She wants to thank him for finding a way for her to see Tenzin, but he likely doesn’t want her to bring it up. He didn’t want her to see Tenzin in the first place, but he did it to…make her happy. She thinks. Bringing it up now would only make him suspicious.

Then, he’d probably not let her leave, sensing her reason for going to the library had ulterior motives.

Smiling as she strolls to the door, Korra salutes him with an air of attitude. “Aye, aye, Captain. I’ll be home before you know it. You’ll barely realize I’ve been gone.”

“Somehow, I doubt that.” His eyes go serious again with that emotion she doesn’t want to acknowledge and Korra looks away, because somehow, she doubts it, too.  
  


* * *

The moment she steps out the front door, Korra feels a heavy weight lift from her shoulders. The sun is out, the air is crisp and fresh. She inhales deeply before exhaling, mentally dropping her worries along with the exhalation.

Finally, she has a purpose again, the sense of having a mission bolstering her spirit.

If what Tenzin said is true, if there’s truly a way for Korra to bring bending back…she can redeem herself and drop all this shame and dismay that has been sinking her down into nothing. She needs to see what she can at the library, test the waters with what Tarrlok will allow her to do.

The fact is, Korra hasn’t left the home on her own in forever. She can’t just start wandering around without him getting suspicious. The library is a good start. Eventually, once Tarrlok gets used to Korra wandering about in public again, she can start the search for Mako and Bolin.

_And, figure out how to save Asami from her awful troll of a father._

Wearing Equalist style clothing still bothers Korra, but she’s already realized that it allows her to sneak around in public without being recognized quite so easily. Now, she doesn’t have to risk angry mobs if she’s careful. Not only that; if she fixes bending, the angry ex-benders won’t hate her anymore!

The Equalists will still hate her, but that’s to be expected. Korra isn’t quite sure that she’ll ever convince them that bending isn’t evil.

But…maybe if she exposes Amon…because he’s the most dangerous of all…

He got the better of Korra once. Her heart sinks. He could possibly do it again. Her mind flutters over his strong, dangerous hands. She imagines them bloodstained. She wonders if he’s ever killed anyone before. She wouldn’t be surprised and it makes her hands shake before she clenches them into fists.

_He can’t find out what I’m doing._

The vicious bastard. She still can’t believe he didn’t even show up at that stupid speech he forced her to do. She’s had nightmares that he didn’t like what she said…nightmares that he executes Tenzin in, just because she spoke to him.

Her stomach turns, thinking of it. She’s been anxious about it, ever since that day. Wondering when he’s going to come and punish her.

Yet, he hasn’t…so perhaps…perhaps she got away with it.

Her mind shifts to Amon’s brother. She thinks on what Tenzin said about Tarrlok, once again trying to mentally dismiss the fact that the charismatic councilman might feel something other than annoyance towards her.

Tarrlok likes to control her, because it makes him feel special, knowing he has the Avatar under his boot. He’s always been like that. It’s just that he was must nicer about it before she fought with him and exposed him as a bloodbender.

He can’t possibly want her. She’s an unintelligent swine, to hear him tell it. What could he possibly see in her, aside from a naïve young woman?

_…just because he’s angry with you doesn’t mean…_

Her heart beats a little faster, thinking of his pale eyes and the way he smirks when he thinks he’s being particularly clever.

Pushing the thoughts away, Korra approaches where the great library of Republic City is. The downtown is relatively quiet, aside from some Equalists wandering around. Normal people are out as well, going about their day, selling food and wares in their usual places.

Some Equalists nod to Korra as they pass her on the sidewalk, not recognizing her, saying, “Good morning, sister.”

Heart jumping at the unexpected friendly greeting, Korra coughs and reddens, quickly replying, “Ah, yeah. Lovely morning, brothers and sisters. Very nice.”

They give her an assortment of odd looks, but they continue on without comment.

_Yikes. That was awkward._

Upon entering the library, Korra gasps, noting all the empty shelves and the chaos. The place is huge, large stone columns and beautiful art, but many of the ceiling high shelves have been stripped of books. Korra can’t believe it; the Equalists truly are trying to erase bending for good.

Even the memory. Fury and sorrow boil like lava in Korra’s chest as she tries to keep a calm face. _Amon, you jerkbending hypocrite. If only your followers knew…_

He probably gets off on being the most powerful man in the city. Yet another link between Tarrlok and Amon; both like power. Not just strength, but power over others. Influence. Worship. Adoration.

 _I’m bringing back bending, Amon,_ Korra thinks as she walks around carefully walking through the sections that used to host bending books, trying to see if anything survived the cleansing. _I’m going to end your reign of tyranny._

Walking past the old, empty shelves, feels saddened, thinking of all the decades of history that has gone down in flames. All because of her.

She notices one of the librarians still has an earthbender bracelet on his wrist, mostly hidden under his drab Equalist sleeve. Korra frowns, wondering if she dares to ask him if he has any idea about hidden books or secret locations in the library.

_What’s the worst that can happen?_

_He could tell Amon._

She has to take that risk.

Walking up to him nonchalantly, Korra smiles. He looks at her Equalist garb with nervous, angry eyes. He doesn’t seem to recognize her either, not at first, but then something like confusion enters his green gaze. “Hey, are you-”

Putting a finger to her lips, Korra says quietly, “Yeah. I am. I’m looking for…something certain people don’t want me to find. Can you help?”

He looks skeptical. “I don’t know what you’re talking about. There’s nothing here. We only have approved titles now. You are welcome to those.”

Shaking her head, Korra pulls him into a quiet, empty shelving section. She frowns at him, getting closer to his face. “I’m told the former Avatar hid something of value here.”

“Not on these shelves,” he whispers back, eyes wide.

“Okay, not on the shelves. I get that. Where?”

He’s stuttering, eyes looking around nervously, afraid of being overheard. “I’m not sure what it is, but I know there are hidden catacombs under the building. No non-bender employees were ever told.”

Korra nearly sighs in relief.

“You have to tell me how to access them,” she pulls him to another section as some people walk closer to them. “I’m on a mission to help us.”

The former earthbender looks sorrowful. “There’s nothing that can be done to help us now. We’ve already lost everything because of you.”

Korra wants to strangle him, her fingers itching to get around his throat. “I’m trying to fix that! Do you want a chance to gain your bending back or not?”

Those evergreen eyes blink curiously. He’s struggling with something internally, Korra can tell, but she doesn’t understand why.

“They told us we had to get rid of everything. All the books, packed away to be burned.” His voice in numb now, miserable. “We never mentioned the hidden underground. At least one piece of history will be kept safe.”

Korra waits, heart racing.

“There’s a life size statue of Avatar Aang on the far side of the library,” he continues, staring off behind Korra’s shoulder. Keeping an eye out for eavesdroppers. “I’m told there is a hidden button on the statue. Pressing it will open a small passage to the underground. That’s all I know.”

Sensing that he’s telling the truth, Korra nods, shoulders sagging. “Thank you. I’m going to do something about all this. I’m not just going to lose quietly.”

“If you say so,” he replies, stepping away from her. “Good luck. You’ll need it. You’re all alone in this fight.”

_I know. For now._

Taking off for the far side of the gigantic building, Korra keeps her eyes peeled for statues. There are some statues of people she doesn’t recognize, likely donors to the library. After a few minutes of searching, she finally catches sight of a familiar bald head, set in porcelain.

Aang.

Glancing about, Korra figures she can feel around for the button to see if the guy was telling the truth. No one is on this side of the library. Taking in a deep breath, Korra steps forward, reaching out a hand to Aang, his stony face serene and calm.

Everything that Korra isn’t.

Feeling rather stupid, she runs her hands over the statue, feeling for the hidden button. She’d have to come back late at night to actually open it, but at least she can feel where it might exist. No one is around, so Korra reaches further around the old, mini statue of Aang, mentally thinking, _sorry for feeling you up like this…_

“What are you doing to that pile of stone garbage, ex-Avatar?” The voice is hard, commanding, and cold.

Korra freezes. _Well, crap._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Comments and kudos are loved!!! You guys are fabulous and I love hearing from you!
> 
> Also- I'll likely add more edits to this chapter later on to make it more well-rounded, but I didn't want to leave you hanging with no update. This hand thing is just totally cramping my style with bunches of pain, so hopefully this chapter is okay T.T sorry guys!


	6. Chapter 6

Slowly disengaging herself from the somewhat violated statue of Aang, Korra turns to face the source of the voice. She doesn’t see what she expects.

At least, not exactly.

Three female chi-blockers stand behind her, their helmets nowhere to be seen as they glare at Korra with varying degrees of suspicion and muted dislike. Slim and statuesque in their form-fitting attire, they cut an imposing team.

Korra’s heart hurts, thinking of her pro-bending teammates. She’s a lone wolf in a sea of enemy packs, it seems.

“Well?” Their apparent leader demands, dark eyes flashing. “What are you doing?” She takes a few aggressive steps forward, circling around the statue in suspicion, as if it’s weaponized.

Oh, Korra desperately hopes she doesn’t press on it and make the secret path open. Her heart jumps in her throat, hair prickling on the back of her neck. If these chi-blockers expose her, there’s no hope in finding Aang’s secret tome on energybending.

The other two female chi-blockers stand lightly on their toes, as if ready for anything. Korra thinks up some sort of crap to say, watching the other woman runs her hands over the statue with a scowl on her face.

“I was…giving him a…final embrace goodbye!” Korra mentally cringes at how ridiculous it is, but she needs to say something. “I’ve had to accept…that I must put my old life behind me! And…I need to…move forward.”

The young woman currently examining Aang arches one slim eyebrow at Korra. “…right. You really expect us to believe that, ex-Avatar? I bet you’re plotting something. I knew it when I saw you walk in here. You’re not the intellectual type.”

Korra scowls at the insinuation, once again, that she’s not intelligent. Why do people have that ridiculous notion? “Did you expect me to go hug the giant statue outdoors? I mean, I can try…”

“If you intend to hug the Amon statue, be our guest.”

Korra blinks, calms herself mentally, because she wants to explode. The Amon statue? _What…the hell_? She hasn’t seen Aang’s memorial since the fall of the Republic, but there’s no way they replaced it, did they?

Oh, Spirits, _did they?!_

Struggling to keep the outrage off her face, Korra steps away from the statue, hoping it will draw attention away from it. “Well, ah…seeing as I’m done here, I’m going to just…excuse myself.” All three are watching her with strange frowns. “…cuz, you know. To do some non-bender things.”

The smallest young woman in the trio scuffs her shoe on the floor awkwardly, looking like she wants to say something. Her gaze has been reserved, yet not unpleasant. “Did you mean what you said? Up there?”

The other women give her twin scowls, like she shouldn’t be talking to the ex-Avatar cordially at all.

Korra feels stupid, eyes darting around. Up where? Then she points to herself incredulously, “Are you talking about my _rally_ speech?”

The tallest of the trio, the alpha female with midnight eyes, is glaring. “Clearly, she is.”

Naturally, Korra wants to shout to the world that she thinks this is all just a horrible revolution, it isn’t bringing equality, it’s bringing tyranny. Sadly, those are things she simply cannot say. Not in public. Not to anyone other than her absent friends and to Tarrlok in moments of sheer mental desperation. “I mean. I don’t even know what’s going on right now,” she replies, which is an honest statement, because her tongue is sick of tasting lies. “But, I’m…trying? I mean, I’ve been in jail for like, most of the time. I haven’t really gotten out since.”

Rubbing the back of her neck awkwardly, Korra makes a soft noise in her throat. “You know, I only ever wanted to help people. I just…wasn’t very good at it, I guess. I just want everyone to stop viewing each other as the enemy.”

Her stomach growls loudly, obscenely. Korra flushes, realizing she’s already missed lunch.

Everyone is silent for a moment. Then, the slight chi-blocker grins shyly. “Well, wanna go get lunch with us?”

Korra’s eyes widen. Is she serious? They actually want to associate with her? Even though they are supposed to hate her? Before she can open her mouth to say anything in response, the dark eyed queen bee makes a noise of agreement, if not a little reluctantly. “Yes. You should. This is what you said we should be doing, right? Befriending the newly cleansed?”

The other says, “That makes you our sister now.”

The third nods seriously. “Your words were so shocking to us all, considering your former disdain for those who can’t bend…we didn’t think you’d have any good will towards us. But, if you’re on our side now, we should be more welcoming.”

Flabbergasted, yet glad that she hasn’t been caught out trying to locate a secret in the library, Korra laughs nervously. “I guess. I mean, yeah. I’d like to go. I’m starving.” Turning to the chi-blocker with scarlet hair, Korra gives her what she hopes is a genuine grin, still stunned at the offer. “Sweet hair,” Korra comments to her. “Dyed?”

The chi-blocker touches it gently before smiling back, pleased. “Thanks. Have you heard of that Varrick guy? Fabulous hair products. I live for them.”

The tall chi-blocker snorts, rolling her eyes. “Enough about your hair. Come on. Let’s go get something to eat.”

So, Korra finds herself swept up in the flow of time, being taken around the new Republic City with three chi-blockers. Her enemies, who have decided to take her not-so-sage advice and try to welcome her as their sister.

Lian is clearly the queen bee of the group, strong, opinionated, and lithe with midnight hair and dark eyes. Hua is the smallest and slightest, though has a certain amount of kindness in her gaze that makes Korra feel somewhat welcome. The chi-blocker with the dyed red hair is Yenay, the chatterbox of the trio, the most outspoken.

They walk in a group, Korra making mental notes as she walks the city for the first time in ages, taking note of the changes. She winces every time a person switches direction to avoid passing them, as if afraid of Amon’s specialized soldiers. “Does everyone…avoid you like that?”

Lian is chewing on a stick of meat idly, nodding. “Yes. It’s pretty cool. We basically run the streets now.”

Korra feels herself frowning at that. Hua notices, her big eyes looking confused. “What’s wrong? The cause is strong in the city. No one goes against us. At least, not really.”

Hm…

“You don’t think it’s odd that people are afraid of you?” Korra scowls, numbly chewing on the kebab she’s been carrying. “I don’t think people should be afraid to walk around.”

“It’s only the ex-benders that act like that,” Yenay replies, shrugging with disinterest. “We had to come down hard on them; there was a lot of fighting when Amon first took over as the new leader of the city. Things should get better soon. Some of the ex-bender groups still fight us.”

Now that sparks Korra’s interest, though she tries to not show her excitement. “There are still groups fighting? Are there many?”

Lian sighs with frustration, dark eyes looking around at the buildings, all marked up with the signs of war and malcontent. “Yeah, we’ve been trying to root them out. The resistance must be somewhere in the city, but whenever we get close, they disappear.” She gives Korra a sideways glance, suspicious. “Why are you asking about this? Trying to join up with your pals?”

Oh, if only she knew. Korra knows it has to be Bolin and Mako. They have to be involved! Her heartbeat skyrockets, thinking of the possibilities, of being able to reunite with her crew again. Perhaps…perhaps hanging out with chi-blockers will get her the sort of info she needs. They already give her a form of security blanket just by walking around town in the group; no one bothers them.

Just what Korra needs; a way to get around the city and get a better feel for how things have changed while she looks for that darn book hidden under the library. If she gains the trust of chi-blockers…word will spread that she is ‘loyal’. The unfriendly eyes on her might look away long enough for Korra to get something done.

In response to Lian’s suspicion, Korra chuckles good-naturedly. “What? _Nah_. You chicks are my pals now.”

Hua’s smile is wide and pretty, like the sun. “Really?” Her arms going around Korra in a hug, one that nearly knocks Korra over in surprise. “I’m excited! People will be so jealous that we have a badass chick in our squad.”

“Whoa, don’t get ahead of yourself,” Korra replies, trying to pry Hua off. “I don’t even know how to chi-block. I’ve got some basic fighting skill, but not much else going for me right now.” _Because, you know, no bending._

Yenay tosses her red hair, letting sunlight bounce off of it. “So, train with us. We’ll teach you.”

Korra stops walking, gaping at her in surprise. “You’d…you’d teach me how to chi-block?”

All three women shift into different stances on the sidewalk, looking like a trio of cats about to strike. Then, they laugh and step to Korra’s side, nudging her along the path. “Sure, why not?” Yenay replies. “We all learned from the best.”

“Who’s that?”

Lian snorts, as if she can’t believe how stupid Korra is. “Our great leader, _Amon_ , you idiot. He’s the best there is. I mean, he kicked the tar out of you even when you were a _bender_.”

That feels like a kick in Korra’s stomach, the ache there almost instantaneous. The pain never diminishes, hearing that she failed the city. Now that she’s parading around with the enemy, it’s even worse, hearing them talk about him like he’s the most generous, respectable man on the whole darn planet.

He does come up in conversation a lot, much to her dismay.

It makes Korra’s mouth taste like acid, anger boiling inside of her.

When they enter the public park, Korra is even more frustrated to see that there are almost no people, as if everyone is afraid to go outside. As if they are all afraid to run into Amon’s elite. Which, all things considered, is ridiculous, Korra thinks.

Look at these three young women; they’re able to consider giving her a chance even though she’s their greatest enemy. All because Korra said at a rally that Equalists should help and welcome the newly cleansed. Even if Korra hadn’t felt it in her heart, it had meant something to these women.

Even though every day hurts just waking up, knowing that her bending is gone. Even though Korra barely felt anything when she said those upset words, it had touched _their_ hearts, even if hers had gone cold.

As Korra is pondering, Hua and Yenay start sparring with each other, dancing around in different formations, stretching their limbs and pressing their hands gently to different places on their bodies. Lian elbows Korra hard, a competitive look in her dark eyes. “You ready, ex-Avatar? I’m not going to go easy on you.”

Lifting her hands above her head, stretching her back, Korra groans as her vertebrae lengthens. “Bring it on.”

It turns out, Lian is very, very fast.  
  


* * *

She gets home late, late enough that she figures it’s best to just climb up the ivy growing on the side of the house. It’s easy enough to scale and it helps her avoid seeing Tarrlok.

Korra had said she would be home before dinner…and yeah. That didn’t happen. There’s no telling what sort of mood he might be in as a result. She knows Tarrlok well enough to know that he doesn’t like feeling insulted, nor does he like being lied to, even though he’s a master of the craft himself.

His male ego is ridiculously delicate, she’s found. It’s almost precious.

Almost. But not quite.

Once inside her bedroom, Korra carefully makes her way to the attached spa bathroom, turning on the water to fill the tub. Her body is positively aching after the session with the trio of chi-blockers. Korra smiles a bit, watching the water fill in; it was sort of fun, even if they are a bunch of fanatical Equalists.

She may be bruised up, but at least she learned a few interesting techniques on how to temporarily disable different limbs. She’s no good at it yet; she couldn’t even make Lian’s arm go numb.

_“You have to be completely precise. You have to hit with utter intent. Otherwise, it’s basically a love tap,” Lian had said, rubbing her shoulder._

_“Hey, I thought you were getting to like my love taps,” Korra had replied with a grin, trying to not get frustrated with herself over not being able to get it right._

_The other woman cracked her knuckles, a slight ghost of a smile on her lips. “Oh, they’re definitely to growing on me.”_

Female companionship is a funny thing. Korra never really had girlfriends, even before Asami. Her relationship with Asami had always been strained on her end, even though Asami was so kind and generous. Korra struggled with her jealousy and wished she could get past it.

At least, the only thing to be jealous of with her new frenemy’s is their skill at chi-blocking. It’s a skill Korra needs…pair that with energybending and she’s gold.

The bathtub water is heavenly and Korra slides in with a sigh of pleasure. She indulges herself by adding a few drops of essential oils to the bath, also drizzling some of the bubbly products in as well. It smells fantastic and feels fantastic on her joints. All her daily stresses are just melting away in a drift of beauty…

The door to her spa-attached bathroom slams open with a bang.

Korra screeches, lowering herself deeper into the water, arms coming around her breasts. “Tarrlok! What heck is wrong with you?”

He’s standing in the now open doorway, pale eyes livid. His hands are clenched at his sides as he stares down at her. Korra has never been more grateful for all the silly bubble and fragrant products he stocks this bathroom with, because at least it makes the water harder to see through.

Otherwise, he’d have a nice show, wouldn’t he?

Korra flushes, listening to the faucet drip water, loud in the moment of tense silence.

“What time is it?” He asks her through gritted teeth. He’s standing there, imperious, his hair neatly done, eyes burning murder holes into her face.

Oh, boy. Korra was right. He’s mad about it. She sighs, trying to play it off as nothing. “Look. I don’t actually know.”

“You. Don’t. Know.”

Frowning at him from her terrible vantage point, feeling vulnerable and exposed, Korra snaps back, “I lost track of time. The library-”

He takes an angry step forward, further into the lovely bathroom, looking like an angry king lording over a peasant. “You weren’t at the library all day. Don’t lie to me, Korra.”

She stares at him before glancing over the edge of the large soaking tub; her fluffy towel is just in reach. If she were to lean over-

Seeing her intent, Tarrlok’s mouth twists into an unpleasant snarl. He steps forward again and uses his foot to kick the towel completely out of Korra’s reach. Effectively trapping her, unless Korra feels the urge to strut about naked in front of him.

Which, she doesn’t. Not in the least.

Exhaling hard through her nose, Korra looks back up at him, leaning her breasts against the side of the tub, crossing her arms over the edge. His eyes are caught on the bare skin of her shoulders. “How do you even know? Were you…checking in on me?” The idea infuriates her. Narrowing her eyes, Korra demands, “Stop looking at me like that.”

He doesn’t. Very deliberately.

Tarrlok’s jaw is tight as he looks down at her, his throat working. “When you didn’t come back, I called over and they said you weren’t in the library anymore. You’d left around noon.

The absolute bastard! Denying his statement won’t help anything. “So, I left. I walked around. Is that illegal? Am I or am I not allowed out of your house, Tarrlok?”

Korra sits back in the tub, wanting to make him as uncomfortable as she feels. She crosses her arms over her chest, still submerged in the water. Trying to appear unfazed, she leans her head back against the tub edge, exposing her neck and clavicle.

His eyes drop from hers once more, dilating quite suddenly. Korra feels herself heat in a way that isn’t being caused by the warm water she’s sitting in. “You’re allowed to leave the house. You’re not allowed to disappear for hours, sight unseen.” Tarrlok’s eyes drift over her lips before he pins her with a fierce look. “Does that answer your asinine question, Korra?”

The way he looks at her does not make Korra feel like she’s in control of the situation in the least. The knowledge that he can do whatever he likes to her is a very real fear, in this extremely vulnerable moment.

Will he? Not likely. But, could he?

Could he take another two steps? Could he bury one large hand in her hair and pull her closer, so close that they share the same breath? So close, that she can smell his cologne, wintery and smelling of home? Could he easily pull her naked form from the safety of the bathtub and take his visual fill of her, the way he clearly wants to? His eyes running up and down her flesh like a physical caress before his hands touch her in places no man has ever been? Could Tarrlok pull her into the bedroom and cover her form on the bed, his hair falling like a curtain over them as his strong hands take control of her wrists?

Oh, _yes_. He could do all of these things. And likely more.

“You’re making me uncomfortable,” Korra utters, meeting his intense gaze, seeing hints of desire there. It terrifies her. Worse, it almost thrills her, being the object of his self-loathing and hunger. Her thoughts aren’t helping things, making her belly tighten oddly.

Anything he could do, she can almost imagine, plain as the sun over the sea. It becomes clearer every day that she’s with him. She’d been blind to it before, first ignorantly, then willfully.

“Good,” he says nastily, pupils still yawning black holes across his pale irises. “I want you to be as uncomfortable as you made me this whole damn day.”

“As if you care where I was!” Korra shouts, splashing water at him, taking pleasure in the way he scoots out of the way of it making contact with his nice robe. “It’s not like-”

He takes a step forward and Korra feels her heart leap nervously.

It’s like he knows that the closer he comes, the more anxious Korra is. “So, who were you with? That juvenile boyfriend of yours? Did you spend all of the day looking for him so you could tell him all your pathetic woes about how terrible you’re treated? About how I’m such a monster to you?”

Korra’s stomach drops a thousand miles. _Spirits_. He’s not mad for the sake of being mad. “You’re jealous.”

His lip curls and his eyes narrowed. “Don’t flatter yourself-”

“I’m not.” Her jaw is hurting from tension. “You’re just being transparent.”

Tarrlok looks away from her sharply, exhaling hard through his nose, his jawline clenched hard.

Korra watches him, almost feeling bad for how worked up he is about the situation. He’s being extremely invasive, rudely so. If she weren’t naked, she would probably be shaking him. “What the heck are you imagining I’ve been getting up to all day?”

Still not looking at her, he asks in a strangled voice, “Do I need to brew you some pennyroyal tea?”

Blinking once, very slowly, Korra goes silent. She feels like she’s been slapped. Then, through gritted teeth, she says, “Do you want to say that to my face?”

As if it’s causing him physical pain, he finally turns his head to meet her eyes again. “Well?” He asks, eyes hard. “Do you?”

Master Katara had told her about the tea, once. As a healer, she thought it was important to make mention of it, just in case. The fact that Tarrlok is asking if Korra needs it is more of an accusation than it is a question.

“How dare you?” Her voice comes out a whisper, feeling humiliated. “Thanks for telling me what you _really_ think of me.”

It hurts that he thinks so lowly of her. Somehow, it stings. He thinks she’s the sort that just hops into bed with the first guy she gets a crush on, hoping to gain his affection? Is that it? _Hah_. What a laugh. Mako is her first major crush and all they’ve done is kissed. _Barely_. Living in the Lotus compound most of her life may have kept her sheltered, but even so, she has some pride in herself and her body. Has she thought of Mako's hands on her body? Sure. Has she gotten excited over the thought of his lips on the delicate skin of her neck, tasting her? Yes. That doesn't mean she's acted on such thoughts and desires.

Especially not in the way that Tarrlok seems to think she has. 

Naturally, Tarrlok is completely oversexualizing the situation, because that’s how he…feels…about her. Korra feels herself flush.

“I’m not your property, Tarrlok.” She says it carefully, clearly. He flinches subtly at the comment and Korra doesn’t have time to examine why. “Now, are you going to let me get out of this tub alone, or are you intending to stand there and commit my body to memory? Maybe you wish you could, _oh_ , I don’t know… _bloodbend_ me-”

An interesting shade of red touches his cheekbones, dusting across them gently. It’s a nice look on him, even though Korra is reluctant to admit it. “I don’t need bloodbending to convince women to go to bed with me,” he snaps coldly, the look in his eyes hard to read.

A mix of want, of loathing, maybe even a hint of pride. The insinuation makes Korra’s stomach flip oddly, twisting like a snake.

Korra sinks lower into the water, muttering, “Bully for you.” She doesn’t want to dwell on him having sexual relations with _anyone_. She doesn’t need the thought in her head. “Now, get out, you absolute jerk.”

Rubbing his forehead, as if trying to calm himself down, Tarrlok sighs with a hint of exhaustion. “This conversation isn’t over.”

“I’d be surprised if it was.”

With one last lingering look, Tarrlok sweeps out of the bathroom, slamming the door behind him. It’s then that Korra realizes she’s shivering, perhaps from the chill of the water, perhaps from her nerves.

_Why didn’t you just tell him you were with a bunch of women?_

Korra groans, digging the heels of her hands into her aching eyes.

_Because that’s my business, he doesn’t need to know every moment of my day. He practically does already and he flips the one time I’m not in his control._

Her thoughts shift as she dries herself off, mad that she can’t use her firebending to do so.

_Maybe you like him being jealous. Maybe you like how that makes you feel._

_Maybe it makes you feel like you have power over him, because he’s stuck on you and it’s driving him crazy._

Yeah, well he’s driving her crazy, too.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **AN:** Comments and kudos are loved! You are all so fabulous, sticking with this story and giving me fabulous feedback. ♥
> 
> I especially thank you for bearing with me while I deal with my minor typing handicap at the moment XD the sprain in my hand should hopefully be mostly healed by the end of this week (aka, because I'm planning on getting out to ride again and I am going to be ticked if my hand says no).
> 
> Also, if you missed the reference with pennyroyal tea, here it is: pennyroyal had been routinely used in a few ancient cultures to prevent unplanned pregnancy, usually taken directly after unprotected intercourse. Does it work? I have no idea, but apparently it did hundreds of years ago.


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tarrlok has a guest

Not wanting to see Tarrlok, ashamed and embarrassed about the night before, Korra exits her window and heads out to meet up with Lian, Hua, and Yenay for a morning jog around the bay. They’re probably going to thrash her, considering she hasn’t been as active as she used to be, but she needs to start somewhere.

They zoom around the bay just as the sun is beginning to rise, the warm orange of it reflecting off the water like a painting of serenity. Korra feels anything but serene, be that as it may. The chi-blockers are nimble for a reason and she is struggling to keep up.

“Keep up, Korra! Don’t be a slug,” Lian calls backwards, a hint of competitive teasing in her voice.

“I’m hardly a slug, you’re just a freaking gazelle!” Korra pushes herself to go through the pain pinching her in her sides. It feels like knives, ripping and tearing, but she’s not about to be shown up by a bunch of chi-blockers quite so easily. It’s crazy what a few weeks away from physical work does to a person.

When they pass by Aang’s giant statue, Korra feels her heart flop miserably.

Sure enough; the former Avatar Memorial has been fashioned after Amon now, his awful mask over Aang’s face. Korra grits her teeth, huffing and puffing with effort to keep up with the avid runners. Her anger gives her a burst of unexpected energy.

When they take a brief break, Korra figures she’ll ask something that’s been on her mind. “I was wondering.” She’s still panting from exertion. Embarrassing. How did she get out of shape so fast? At least her side isn’t killing her anymore. “Do any of you know Asami Sato?”

“What about her?” Hua, the smallest of the trio, frowns curiously.

Korra shrugs her shoulders. “I…ah…wanted to see her. I heard she has come around to the cause.”

Yenay is putting her red hair up in a tighter bun. “She’s been locked away by her crazy father last I heard. Not sure she’s totally with us yet, based on that. You probably shouldn’t ask about her…just a piece of friendly advice.”

“I kind of feel bad for her,” Hua says in reply. “I mean, her father might be a genius with all his tech and stuff, but man, he is _bonkers_. I heard he’s keeping her hidden so she doesn’t go find some firebender boy that she’s like, in love with.”

“Gross,” Lian snickers, gagging as she stretches her long limbs effortlessly.

Korra feels her face flush and a hint of envy poke her right in the feels. _Ugh_. She doesn’t need a reminder that Asami loves the same boy she does. It does answer one thing though; Asami probably hasn’t been in touch with Mako.

Or anyone in the resistance, whatever remains of it.

She gets back ‘home’ just before lunch, leaping over the high walls, her limbs and body exhausted comfortably. Good exercise always calms her nerves; she’s missed that, being locked up. Just as she’s about to climb up the ivy on the siding leading up to her bedroom window, Korra gets the sensation of being watching intently.

Hand raised towards the ivy, she slowly cranes her head to look to her right, feeling her stomach drop precariously, like she’s just fallen out of the sky with no wings to speak of.

Tarrlok is sitting at the garden patio table, in the sun, his table decked out with the usual assortment from the maid. He’s staring a Korra with a bland, unimpressed expression, watching her about to make her slightly ‘again the rules’ climb to her room.

That’s not the only thing wrong with this whole situation.

He’s not alone.

There’s an unfamiliar man sitting next to him, decked out in full chi-blocker regalia, minus the masked helmet. Where Tarrlok is undeniably good-looking, this man is striking with a bad case of resting dick face, a bit of a cruel sneer pulling at his lips.

His eyes see straight through Korra, the color of a raging storm over the sea, aggressive and sharp.

_Yeah, I don’t want an introduction to that. The Lieutenant is bad enough._

They are both watching her with varying degrees of suspicion, just waiting to watch her show them just exactly how she escapes her room unnoticed. Fat chance, old boys.

Acting like nothing is amiss, Korra stiffly walks over to the doors that lead inside of the house, pulling them open as gracefully as she can, deeply aware of the two pairs of eyes watching her. She can almost taste how badly Tarrlok wants to demand she tell him where she’s been, still feeling the tension from the night before.

She tries not to think of how his eyes had been on her as she huddled in her soapy bath water or the way he’d made her feel. She certainly doesn’t want him to bring up that same argument right now, considering they never quite finished their fight.

Luck seems to be in her favor today; he doesn’t want to embarrass himself in front of his guest by looking like he has no control of her. His lips press in a firm line, but he says nothing as Korra disappears into the house, looking to find a snack.

Because, really, she’s _famished_ after that _hellish_ run.  
  
  


* * *

  
  
  
“You’re not going to tell me those vines go straight up to her bedroom.”

“Fine,” Tarrlok replies flippantly, eyes still on the empty doorway that Korra disappeared into. He’s not ignorant to how she’s been coming and going. Being a disobedient little vixen is part of her charm. “I won’t.”

“Take them down,” his brother demands flatly.

Tarrlok shoots him a dirty look. It’s one thing to be ordered around at Equalist HQ, it’s another thing entirely to be ordered about in his own home. “Go right ahead. Go over there and get to work.”

“I asked _you_.” He’s lighting a cigarette and Tarrlok scoots his chair further away.

“Don’t you blow that toxic waste in my face. It ruins my clothing and I find that _tedious_.”

It’s a habit Tarrlok’s caught him at numerous times, which Tarrlok finds both disgusting and amusing. Even in HQ, he’ll see him in his office with the Lieutenant, smoking over maps and plans, his mask slightly tilted up on his falsely scarred face. A bad habit he’s picked up somewhere in his worldly travels.

He claims the act is soothing to the nerves.

Gangsters and stars in the Movers smoke them. Terrorist leaders? Check the box, collect five dollars.

When this unscarred, unmasked version of his brother ends up exhaling slowly in his direction, Tarrlok accepts that he’s going to have to deal with it. “Remind me why you’re here, tormenting me?”

His brother tilts his head back to rest on the top of the chair, eyes drifting closed. He almost seems nice when he’s like this, which Tarrlok so rarely ever sees. He’s always behind the mask or hidden behind that awful scar, which acts as a mask all on its own.

Noatak has never come to visit Tarrlok at his home. Too much of a risk as Amon, but apparently when he’s out of disguise it doesn’t make the news. Sometimes, Tarrlok wonders which is the act now; Amon or Noatak.

Taking in the sun, eyes still closed, Noatak replies in that smoked out, husky tone, “Do I need a reason?”

 _No, you never did. But, regardless, there usually_ is _a reason._

Control. A pissing contest, perhaps. To show that he has the power to waltz into Tarrlok’s garden and claim it for his own, effortlessly. To show that he can come and go as he pleases and no one can stop him.

Irritated, Tarrlok shifts in his chair and looks out at his garden, admiring the scent of roses and lilacs on the wind. “So, now that you’re the Overlord of Republic City, how _does_ it feel? I’ve always wondered. I mean, I wanted to do it the nice way, but here you come smashing everything under your boot heel.” Tarrlok frowns, staring off into the distance. “Thanks for showing me up, as always.”

“I did none of this to spite you,” Noatak replies coolly, relaxed as a panther, legs spread. “Your pride is just collateral damage in the grand scheme of things. I rule the city. Soon, I will have control of the continent when we start the next phase of my plans. You always have a place by my side.”

 _The next phase._ Lovely. More innocent benders for his brother to ‘cleanse’ of their impurity. The bitterness inside of Tarrlok boils like tar, sick and dark. There are times when he wants to wrap his fingers around Noatak’s neck and other times when he just wants his brother to apologize and press his forehead to his, the way he used to.

“You know there is a real possibility that naval forces from either of the Water Tribes or what remains of the United forces could be on their way here,” Tarrlok says, trying to push some of his misery into his brother out of spite.

Noatak’s eyes open slightly to give him a look. Then, he inhales more smoke and that cruel sneer shapes his well-made lips. “Naturally. But they won’t have an easy time coming through the bay. Sato is an excellent ally, don’t you think? _Endlessly_ inventive.”

So, he’s riddled the bay with mines. No ship is getting through whatsoever, not unless they go completely around the continent and land elsewhere, having to move an army across land, putting wear and tear on the soldiers, straining supply lines, etc.

His brother is such an evil genius and he hates that he still feels a whisper of anything for him. Just under the empty ashes of his heart, Tarrlok can feel the slight string of longing that connects him to Noatak, the way it always has. A ghostly grip that isn’t entirely Noatak’s fault.

It’s partially his own. It comforts him to know that no matter how awful he may feel, his brother is likely feeling a similar strain, though for a different reason. Noatak simply hides it better.

“Must be grand. You have everything you ever wanted,” Tarrlok finally says bitterly after a pause.

“Almost,” he replies cryptically, a whisper of his bloodbending pressing against Tarrlok’s spine, a soft fingertip of sensation.

Tarrlok wants to tell him to stop, but he doesn’t. He hates himself for being too weak to say no.

“Did you ever think of me? After you abandoned me?” Tarrlok looks pained.

Now, a shadow of something ugly passes across Noatak’s face. He sits up straight, no longer relaxed, a hint of vicious in his cold gaze. The sensation creeping along Tarrlok’s spine turns sour, jealously possessive. Suffocating. “You chose _him_ over me.”

“I chose her!” Tarrlok snaps, his fingers clenching around the sides of his seat. He wants to get up and walk into the house, retreat, but he’s afraid Noatak will follow. Tarrlok doesn’t want Korra involved in this. “You thought nothing of our mother when you took off! I couldn’t abandon her; you tried to make me _choose_.”

“I thought it was obvious what choice you should have made.” The words are poisonous.

So, he’s still bitter about it? He’s been stewing over this for two decades, give or take? Oh, Noatak’s probably invented this terrible narrative around Tarrlok’s rejection of leaving their family in the middle of a storm. Unbelievable.

Actually, it’s almost believably selfish and Tarrlok isn’t going to let it pass unscathed.

“You could have _made_ me come with you if it meant so much to you,” Tarrlok whispers. “There’s nothing you cannot take for yourself. You knew this, even then. You were more powerful than father had ever been, even at fourteen. I heard him tell you that, when mother had gone to bed for the night. I bet he knew what sort of monster you were capable of becoming-”

His throat tightens unexpectedly and Tarrlok gasps for air, his own hands scrabbling at his neck. It’s futile; he knows he has no hope of breaking Noatak’s bloodbending. He gags, the pain extreme, like iron fingers are digging into his neck. Face going red, his sinks out of his seat, down to his knees.

Exactly where his brother likes him.

Just when he’s sure that Noatak is going to make him pass out from lack of air, the brutal grip on his neck lightens, then disappears. His brother’s pupils constrict into small pinpoints as he releases Tarrlok from his control, gaze shifting back to stormy and disgusted.

Tarrlok assumes Noatak is sickened by himself, rather than by Tarrlok.

Gasping wetly on garden patio floor, Tarrlok inhales in a way that reminds him of his childhood. All the memories of those nights that Noatak tested out his skills, trying to see how he could best control Tarrlok’s body without harming him.

He didn’t always succeed in the ‘not harming’, as it were. Clearly.

Sometimes that was on purpose. Sometimes it wasn’t.

Clearing his throat, Tarrlok rubs at his neck, glowering at his brother from the ground. In a show of poor thinking, he jabs, “Did I say something shocking? What a response-”

“Enough, Tarrlok.”

“Is it just me or do you need to learn how to exercise better self-control? I do hope your minions haven’t suffered unexpected attacks from you. Poor, unsuspecting souls; they would be so confused, so helpless-”

“If I didn’t know better, I’d almost think you enjoy angering me,” Noatak’s voice is dry, a dark warning in the undercurrent. He crushes the cigarette out under his boot.

“Almost as much as you enjoy lording your obscene power over me.” Tarrlok’s mocking tone is biting, full of fire. “You think you’re some holy savior when really you’re the monster hiding under the bed. You enjoyed playing protector and tormenter all wrapped in one when you were a boy, once you found your bloodbending. You were good _once_. Until you _weren’t_. You got a taste of complete power far _too young_ and you enjoyed it far _too much_.”

Noatak has his arms crossed over his chest, looking the part of a chi-blocker with his casual tension. The anger in his gaze belays a terrible longing for _something_ , dark and ugly. “That’s precisely _why_ I am here.”

Here? As in, Tarrlok’s garden? Or as in Republic City, as its tyrant? “You’re going to have to be more clear, dear brother.”

“Then you don’t understand,” Amon says darkly, a mocking tone slipping into his voice. “Bending is a _disease_. You’re right; I twisted and turned to our father’s tune until I became an empty shell, carrying only anger and revenge. Imagine being fourteen again, realizing there is _nothing_ you cannot do to someone else. I’ve done terrible things because I wanted to. Congrats, little brother, you know me so well.” Noatak pauses, strong jaw tense. “Later, when I realized that bending is what makes monsters of us, I knew I had to find a way to abolish it. I succeeded in that and got revenge for our father in one swoop. Don’t you see? I’m taking away the very thing that enables others to become evil; I’m ending the tool that so many use to terrorize non-benders and benders alike.”

 _That isn’t supposed to be your job,_ Tarrlok thinks, horrified. Then worse yet, _what did you do all those years after I thought you were dead? What horrors did you get up to that made you twist this terribly with self-loathing? It can’t all be just because of our father._

Stomach sick, feeling completely out of sorts and anxious, Tarrlok remains silent.

His brother smirks a little, something unkind, cruel. His psychic touch is almost unnoticeable now, his skill far more than when he was a boy. “You don’t know how hard it is for me, sitting here across from you, feeling your heart racing in fear and dismay. I want to change it; I _can_ change it. If I wanted to simulate euphoria, I could. I can change the very way you feel, just with a few tweaks. Does that make you feel safe? Likely not. No one would, if they knew.”

Safe? The majority of his childhood with Noatak was spent either feeling safe or in grave danger. What a laugh. Tarrlok almost cracks at the very thought.

“Bending made me feel safe,” Tarrlok hisses, getting to his feet. His voice begins to rise precariously. “ _You_ took my safety away. How is anyone safe when you’re prowling around, claiming one thing, but doing another?!”

A door slides open loudly.

“Tarrlok? Is everything alright?”

Tarrlok freezes, feeling his veins chill substantially. _Korra._

He looks towards the door to the house and notices her standing there, brow furrowed and hands clenched. His heart pings weakly at the knowledge that there is an expression of concern in her eyes as she looks to him.

She’s still wearing Equalist athletic clothing, as if she had been out exercising. Running from him. The thought of it hurts. He wishes he could figure out what she responds to positively. Extravagant gifts don’t work. Schmoozing doesn’t work. Forcefulness doesn’t work. She’s an absolute puzzle and he hates it.

Why can’t she just soften towards him, the way he has towards her? The way he aches for her at night, when he’s alone in bed, is driving him to madness. He fantasizes often about begging her to come to bed with him, but only because he wants her so terribly.

He’s ashamed of that. He’s never had to try this hard with a woman. She’s just not easily impressed when she has reason to feel suspicious, it seems.

His brother makes a noise of derision, likely feeling the change in Tarrlok’s physiology at the sight of her.

She takes another step forward, surprisingly cautious. “I heard yelling. What is going on out here?”

Raising a calming hand towards her, Tarrlok smiles slightly, hoping it looks normal and friendly. “It’s fine, Korra. Just a disagreement. Go back inside.”

Her lips take on an irritated pout. “Don’t try and dismiss me. What’s the deal here? Did Amon decide to send one of his cronies to come chew us out? We’ve done just as he demanded. He really couldn’t have expected me to stay locked up here forever. I’d like to see him try and force the issue; he’ll have to do better than send some…some chi-blocker dude here to intimidate us. We say what he wants to hear; that’s the bargain, isn’t it?”

She really has no idea. Tarrlok doesn’t know if he wants to laugh or cry.

His brother crosses one ankle over his knee, giving Korra a look that tells Tarrlok he’s eager to hear what other trouble she’s been getting up to. Waiting, like a snake ready to strike.

Korra points at Noatak accusingly, her cyan eyes spitting fire. She’s strangely protective, like a polarbear dog protecting her home, like she’s already taken on Tarrlok as hers to guard with her life. It’s almost flattering. “Don’t give me that look; I don’t who told you _what_ , but I’m not easily cowed. Who the hell do you think are you, jerkface? You can tell Amon to shove his nasty, power-grabbing hands where the sun doesn’t shine, because this is our house and he can’t dictate if we come and go, who we talk to, or…what we actually think about Equalists! You can also tell him-”

Tarrlok’s brother looks bored, his familiar baritone darkly uninterested. “You just did.”

The look on her face would be comical if it didn’t look like she was about to flip the patio table onto his brother’s head.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **AN:** Hello again!! Another chapter, another day. We are slowly moving things forward, but I can tell you I have a lot of fun when I get to write Tarrlok and Amon in the same scene XD
> 
> I am expecting things to heat up a bit in the next two chapters, to be honest, so yay for that. I know, how slow am I about getting to Explicit, jeez. LOL.


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Korra gets served and has some uncomfortable revelations...

Those eyes. So similar to Tarrlok’s, yet somehow nothing like them at all. Tarrlok often has laughter, smug laughter, in his gaze. Tarrlok’s eyes draw people into his charismatic, confident aura. When he looks at Korra, his gaze is always warm in some way, shape, or form.

Warm with irritation, interest, or even desire.

Amon, in contrast, has cold eyes, full of vicious intelligence. Aggressive emotion. Dominance. A gaze like razorblades.

Though Tarrlok and Amon have the same color iris, they are nothing alike.

Rage and fear course through her body in the space of a moment. Her enemy, her greatest rival, is sitting at the patio table in the garden of her home. Well, Tarrlok’s home. _Details_. How dare he show his face here, like he belongs here?

This monster, who has ruined so many lives? This scarless monster, with neatly trimmed sideburns and short dark hair, with lips that curl like a wolf’s. He’s been sitting here, listening to her rant and rave about _him_ and Tarrlok let her run her mouth! How could he?

How could he not tell her that his brother could just…show up unannounced? In this disguise that isn’t a disguise at all?

Amon’s ruined her and ridiculously, in between her natural terror of what he’s capable of, she acts out of instinct. Tarrlok’s eyes widen as he recognizes the look on her face. He warns, “Korra-”

Snarling, Korra strides forward and grips the edge of the table, fully intending to crush the bastard with it, only the stupid, offensive thing doesn’t move! Her arms jolt painfully and Korra growls in outrage, realizing that the table it bolted down into the ground.

It’s not going to budge and she looks like an utter fool.

Flushing with emotion, she resorts to grabbing the tea pot, flinging it at Amon’s stupid, mocking face. Naturally, he practically glides out of the way, his chair falling sideways as he moves to his feet like a cat. The tea pot sails past him, crashing and breaking loudly on the patio floor behind his chair.

Tarrlok twitches, face turning red. “ _Korra_! That was a priceless piece from the Fire Nation!”

Oh, of course he’s concerned about a freaking tea pot! Why isn’t Korra surprised?

Amon is coming towards her, slow, measured steps. Unconcerned. He doesn’t think she poses any sort of threat to him. “Is this the sort of household you run, brother?” He says it idly to Tarrlok, though his piercing gaze is on Korra. “Disappointing.”

Tarrlok looks uncomfortable. Korra scowls, hunching aggressively, her fight or flight instincts completely settled on fight. “I’ll show you disappointing, you trashbender!”

Amon smirks, the look twisting his face into cruelly handsome. The sort of man girls like to admire from afar, but don’t actually want to deal with up close when they see that unpleasant glitter in his eyes. “I’m sure you will.”

“Will you two stop this stupidity?” Tarrlok hisses, some feet away from them, as if wanting to be far from any violence. “You’re like children!”

Amon is light on his feet, but Korra has learned a thing or two from her newest friends, watching the way his feet point, trying to get a clue as to how he’s going to strike. He’s extremely subtle, but Korra is actually able to dodge his first attempt to disable her. It was mostly a guess on her part; she’d tried to assume where his fingers would point first. Lian always goes for the side.

His eyes flash in surprise; he’d not expected that from her.

Sneering, Korra strikes, trying to emulate Lian and her sharp, yet fluid movements when she hits pressure points. Korra only manages to hit two spots on Amon before he slips away. His light eyes look at her with an absurd amount of dark amusement, lightly stepping backwards, shrugging his shoulder loosely.

Korra stares. Well, crap. Lian always said her strikes weren’t hard enough to actually work. His voice is full of cruel laughter. “Was that supposed to do something, I wonder? You’re a poor mirror of someone far more skilled.”

 _Ugh._ He sure likes to twist the knife once its in.

Before Korra can reply, he’s darting towards her, faster than she has time to react to. Tarrlok is shouting, but the adrenaline in her body is blocking out the words. Tunnel vision is taking over, zeroing in on the man responsible for all her woes in life.

Responsible for her woes…but also the only man she’s ever been genuinely terrified of.

Step right, duck left. He’s fast, far too fast for her to anticipate. It’s then that Korra realizes that her chi-blocker teachers likely slow their movements down so that she can follow them better. Amon isn’t trying to teach her; he’s trying to humiliate her.

One moment he’s in front of her, then he’s spinning on his feet, disappearing from sight. Korra cries out when she feels something like a hammer being slammed into her from behind, all along her upper back and side.

_How’d he get behind her so fast?_

Her vision whites for a second, the pain excruciating. Then, her limbs seem to go numb, useless.

She collapses on the ground in an aching heap, Amon standing over her, sneer pulling at his lips viciously. Derision drips from his tone as he says, “Pathetic. What did you think that would accomplish? Have you not heard that it’s a criminal offensive to attack me? Are you truly so eager to return to your prison? I can accommodate that desire, if you wish.”

Korra groans weakly, feeling feeble, barely able to move. She doesn’t want to go back to that dark, damp place. Not with the Lieutenant and his awful cronies, laughing at her during their cruel amusements and abuses. 

“Noatak,” Tarrlok pleads, looking agonized. “She’s already done. Leave her be.”

Amon is standing over her, looking down at her with an ugly look in his gaze, like he’s considering smashing his boot across her face. Korra shrivels inside, defenseless. As always, he has bested her, humiliated her with only a few simple movements. It isn’t fair.

He didn’t even use his bending. His awful, soul crushing bloodbending.

“She needs a lesson in discipline,” Amon replies stiffly. “Perhaps she’s forgotten her time in the pit.”

"That won't be necessary."

Amon snorts, lip curled, teeth sharp. "Regardless-"

“Let me be more clear. _I_ don’t want her there.” When Tarrlok says those words, his brother shoots him a look that Korra can’t decipher. Amon’s entire body stiffens, hands clenching into fists, eyes flashing furiously.

The two brothers are silent, Amon looking especially displeased by his brother’s statement. Tarrlok crosses his arms over his chest, looking away, a strange, visible shudder wracking his body. Korra wonders if he’s being bloodbent, a vague sort of horror and pity suffusing her.

Distantly, she knows that Tarrlok has been bloodbent by Amon before…but the idea that Amon _still_ uses his powers on him is distressing to her. How controlling does the bastard need to be? It’s not like Tarrlok can do anything to him!

Perhaps she now understands why Tarrlok is so overbearing; it’s a trait he shares with his brother.

Only, his brother is far worse.

A short little growl coils in Amon’s throat and he looks away from Tarrlok to give Korra a withering glance that makes her die just a bit inside. Okay, more than a bit. His shoulders square tightly and he saunters back to his seat, putting it upright before sitting in it like a king.

He looks off at the flowers. “Get her out of my sight before I change my mind.”

Tarrlok seems to sag with relief, quickly coming to her side. His eyes look worried, traveling over her collapsed form. Carefully, he tries to help her to her feet, but Korra finds that her legs simply won’t work.

Just beyond his shoulder, Amon is studiously refusing to look at them.

Realizing she can’t stand, Tarrlok sweeps her off her feet effortlessly and carries her into the house, up to her room. His lips brush her forehead gently, warm. “I’m sorry, Korra.”

Everything goes dark as she slides in unconsciousness.  
  


* * *

  
Korra has no idea how many hours have passed when she wakes once more. The sun is still in the sky, though dipping a little lower, casting an orange hue across her bedroom. She wonders why she feels so achy, but then it all comes back to her. Amon _. Here_.

Panic, like lightning flashing in a night sky. Pushing herself up with the greatest of efforts, Korra groans, feeling her muscles argue with her. Wow, does she feel _sore_. The bastard doesn’t have human hands, clearly.

A soft voice sounds out beside her, surprising her. “You should rest. He got you pretty hard.”

Pretty hard? That’s not how Korra would describe it. More like smacking her pressure points with a freaking hammer! She’s forgotten how extremely precise Amon is when it comes to jabbing those sensitive points on a person’s body. He was far worse than the women she’d started practicing with.

Way worse. Like, it felt like each blow had a thousand pounds behind it.

Tarrlok is on the edge of the bed, looking at her warily. There’s a certain longing in his gaze, like he wants to brush his fingers through her hair. Korra hasn’t forgotten his lips, soft and warm, ghosting across her forehead.

“I feel like death,” Korra croaks out, rubbing some life into her limbs.

“I should have warned you. About him.” He looks distinctly uncomfortable, unable to meet her eyes. “I didn’t even realize you were out and he just…he came for a visit. I’m…well he’s peculiar about me. He was…put out by your interruption.”

She not even going to examine all the things wrong with what Tarrlok just said. Because, there is something wrong with it, Korra just can’t quite figure it out. Doesn’t want to. “Put out? Is that supposed to be a joke? My muscles feel like an earthbender just beat me into a pulp.”

“You did attack him. Regardless…just be careful with your sneaking in and out of my home. You never know when he might be here.”

That’s not comforting in the least. Amon, coming and going at will? Is nowhere safe? Korra feels like eels are coiling about in her belly, sick and twisted.

“This leads me to something else. We need to talk about the other night,” he says heavily, looking uncomfortable.

Oh, this is the last thing Korra wants to discuss. Her insides spasm. “What is there to discuss? I was out, snuck back in and then you busted in while I was in the bath. Inappropriate. A huge invasion of privacy.”

He sighs, rubbing his forehead roughly. “I know I was…a bit aggressive in my actions…”

“I was literally naked, Tarrlok.”

There’s a hint of red on his neck, attractive, oddly enough. “You were right. I was…jealous. I don’t…wear the emotion well. I’m not used to feeling that way. I should have waited to discuss matters with you like a reasonable man.”

Korra’s heart stutters, nervous. He’s just admitted to being jealous…and she’s not sure she likes what that means for her. “Tarrlok, I don’t understand why you feel the need to act that way. I swear, I’m not doing…things when I’m out.”

He twists to face her, hand coming up finally to brush hair behind her ear. “I become unreasonable because…because I want you for…myself. It’s…it’s why I offered my home up for you to stay in. I’m a purely selfish man, you see. I’m not ashamed to admit it.”

Tarrlok’s gaze is intense, piercing. It goes straight down into Korra's soul, seeing every little anxiety she has about this entire situation. “You want me?”

He scowls at her. “Are you trying to make me repeat myself?”

She’s known that he wants her. Well, assumed. Guessed. Been told by others. She never quite believed in it. Didn’t want to believe it. What does he even see in her that is desirable? A part of her is thrilled to know someone feels so strongly about her, strong enough that he wants to keep her, but-

“Tarrlok…” How does she even acknowledge this?

It hurts her, seeing the way his body seems to sag a bit at her nervous tone. “I know. I just-” He stops himself, clearly not wanting to admit to too much.

The silence grows awkward as they both sit, lost in their own heads.

“Will you eat dinner with me tonight?” He sounds like a lost little boy and Korra hates how guilty he makes her feel. She’s not supposed to feel this way about him!

“I have places to be tonight.”

The incredulity on his face is gold. “Places to be? _Where_? With who?” The last bit sounds accusing and Korra groans aloud.

Swinging her feet off the edge of the bed, Korra waits for him to move away and give her room. He doesn’t, sitting next to her like some overly possessive caretaker. It almost thrills her to drag out his agony. “Why does it matter? Is this a prison? Am I not allowed to leave? Is that a new rule you are enforcing?”

That makes him tense further. “I don’t want this to be a prison to you, Korra. You know that’s not…that’s not how I want you to feel.”

“Oh? How _do_ you want me to feel?”

Tarrlok looks away, hiding his facial expression from her. He’s silent and that silence speaks volumes. Korra frowns at his profile, because she almost can’t believe that he’s serious about all this. It’s absurd, insane. He can’t seriously want her to play house with him like nothing is abnormal at all.

Yet, that’s _exactly_ what he wants.

Before she can open her mouth to fill the tense silence, he finally speaks. “You understand that it _matters_ who you go see, don’t you? Beyond how I feel about you. If you _are_ seeing your former friends, who are _enemies of the cause_ , you put not only yourself at risk, but me as well. I don’t fancy losing my head on the chopping block because you want to see some teenage boy.”

His voice is tight, strained, like it’s killing him to even talk about her wanting to see Mako. Korra takes pity on him, because she knows how it feels when you want someone, but they want someone else. It stings, like a burning longing tainted with shades of blue and midnight purple.

“I met some girls. Well, women, actually. Chi-blockers, part of Amon’s elite. I’m meeting them tonight for dinner.”

Tarrlok turns his body to face hers, so fast he’s probably given himself whiplash. “Chi-blockers? You?” His eyes looked relieved before they go dark again, suspicious. “I don’t know if I can believe that.”

He has serious trust issues; it’s becoming quite clear. _Good grief, what did your brother do to you as a boy?_ She attempts to crack her neck, but a shudder of pain crawls up her spine. Nope, can’t do that it seems. “I’m not lying. Their names are Hua, Lian, and Yenay. I’m sure the Lieutenant can confirm he’s got a squad with those three in it. That is, if you don’t trust my word,” she finishes with teasingly, wanting to see Tarrlok fidget.

“I suppose that’s where your strange attempt to disable my brother came from earlier today.”

“Well, they’re teaching me. I’m learning,” Korra replies.

He snorts, a hint of ease coming back into his frame. His pale blue eyes thaw a bit, jealousy fading away like water on a sunny pavement. “Clearly. You’re not very good.”

Oh, of course he’s going to make fun of her now! If he’s not being overbearing, he’s overly charming and teasing. There’s almost no in-between and Korra is going to get her own whiplash trying to keep up with him. “I’m getting better! That’s why I’m training.”

His eyebrow rises at that. “So, you can brawl with my brother when he visits? You’d best not do that again or he’s going to throw you in a hole and forget your name.”

_Or worse. There’s always something worse with Amon._

“He’s going to have to make up his mind on what he wants from me, then.” Korra stands, feeling a muscle spasm in her side. She groans, willing it to end. When it abates, she continues. “If he wants me to be part of the cause, I need to learn how to be useful, right? Learning how to be a chi-blocker is useful.”

“Or it makes you a threat. Maybe he wants you to be defenseless.” Tarrlok sighs. “Don’t make yourself into an obvious menace, Korra.”

She remembers the strange exchange between the two siblings, when she’d been incapacitated. “Does he bloodbend you, Tarrlok?”

He twitches, fingers spasming, his spine straightening very suddenly. “Why are you asking me that?”

The answer is plain on his face. _Yes_. Korra frowns, fury a red, living thing in her breast. “What is his problem? He’s going around telling everyone benders are monsters, yet here he is, bloodbending his own brother at will! It isn’t right, Tarrlok.”

The sigh he emits is long suffering. “He’s not hurting me, Korra. Noatak-”

“Don’t call him that.”

His lips firm and he rolls his eyes. “Like I told you, my brother is peculiar about me, Korra.”

“What the heck does that even _mean_?” Because, really. It doesn’t make sense. It says a million things silently.

“It’s complicated.” When Korra opens her mouth to ask another question, he stops her shortly, “Not up for discussion.”

He gets up from her bed, standing tall. He looks down at her with a softening gaze. Seeing the confusion on her face, her gives her a slight smile, gentling his features. “I’m not entirely repulsive, am I?”

Korra’s mouth drops open, because how does she reply to that!? However, before she can, he turns and leaves the room, leaving her to her tormented thoughts of him. Leaving her to prepare to leave the house, to leave him for the next few hours.

Letting her go free.

When Korra leaves the house, she almost feels bad that she’s leaving Tarrlok to fend for himself. Distantly, she realizes that he’s become accustomed to always having her around. She’s also become accustomed to it, to being with him, either arguing or being as companionable as they can be, which isn’t much.

_He likes having you with him. If you do nothing, you’ll be with him for the rest of your life._

It’s a staggering thought. It terrifies her. If she never fixes her failure, she will live her life as Tarrlok’s. She’ll never see her friends again, at least, not unless they become Equalists. The airbenders will be extinct.

_He’s not a terrible man. He could be way worse. He’s not terrible to look at either._

_Ugh_. She needs to stop thinking this way. Wallowing in her misery and her failures won’t solve anything. If she continues to bring herself further into the good graces of the Equalists, she’ll far more capable of rescuing Republic City.

Not that she’s ever going to be in the good graces of the jerkbender, Amon. It was clear to see in his eyes earlier today; his dislike for her goes deep. Without his mask on, without that stupid fake scar, he has nothing to hide behind. The eyes are the window to seeing the person in the inside.

Korra ponders that the look in his eyes had almost been resentment. But, over what? Her being alive? Her being at _Tarrlok’s_?

_He seemed almost as possessive of Tarrlok as Tarrlok is of me._

The thought crosses her mind and she quickly dismisses, not liking the slimy feeling it gives her inside. Like she’s just been licked by some sort of Spirit troll. It’s a bad thought, wrong, wrong, wrong…

Korra doesn’t have a sibling, so she can’t claim to understand what it feels like to have one. There’s a bond there, between the two men, indecipherable. Complex. Twisted, even. Whatever was in his gaze doesn’t even matter, what matters more is that he certainly far outmatches her in skill when it comes to physical combat. Embarrassingly so.

_The only way to beat him is with energybending. Using it to unlock the rest of my bending._

_I just need to find that stupid book._

It’s now, once more, that Korra misses Naga. She misses being able to hug her, to bury herself in the polarbear dog’s warm fur. She hopes that Naga is somewhere safe, that she has food. It hurts, thinking that her animal companion must be so lost, so confused about what has happened.

She walks over to the restaurant that they had said they would meet at, taking note of the bright candles and lights illuminating the place. The sounds of people, eating, drinking, filter outwards. There’s a lot of equalists in there, she gathers with dismay.

It must have been a non-bender establishment before the war.

Taking in a deep breath, Korra squares her shoulders and gives herself a small pep-talk. She’s Korra and no one can ever take that away from her, no matter how hard they may try. Stepping inside, the mouthwatering smell of food hits her in the face, making her stomach gurgle with anticipation.

“Hey girl, heyyy!” It’s the redhead, Yenay. She’s smiling with lopsided friendliness, just across the way with Lian and Hua. “You’re late. Your man keep you busy?”

Coming up to the table that the three women are sitting at, Korra frowns, then blanches. “My _man_?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **AN:** Comments and kudos are loved!!!
> 
> Sorry for a little bit of a delayed update. I've been busy with original stories (who knew formatting kindle books could be such a b$tch). Either way, here we are, another chapter, a little longer than the last two. Phew!


	9. Chapter 9

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Korra indulges herself and perhaps sees something in the darkness. 
> 
> Tarrlok broods.

Yenay grins even wider, eyes flashing. “Ooh, she’s not denying it.”

“No,” Hua replies, sipping baijiu. Her cheeks are pleasantly flushed. “She’s definitely not. Must be true. Very scandalous.”

Korra searches her brain for any possibility of what they are talking about. Her man? _What_ man? She sort of has a boyfriend, not that she knows if she _really_ has one anymore. Is Mako still hers? These women clearly aren’t talking about Mako. She hasn’t mentioned him once, considering they associate him as the ‘firebender’ that Asami Sato likes.

 _Cringe_.

That leaves only one option. Just one. Her lips twist in dismay. “You guys aren’t talking about the councilman, are you?”

This time Lian is chuckling, her midnight eyes surprisingly hazy. She’s been drinking quite a bit if Korra is any sort of judge. Not that she’s a good judge, but clearly Lian is not her normal stick-up-the-butthole self. “Do you hear her? She calls him _the councilman_. As if his title will distract us from the fact that she lives with him.”

Korra flushes, sitting down between Yenay and Lian. “Tarrlok isn’t ‘my man’. He’s just kind enough to let me stay there…while…well…” It makes her internally cringe just to call him ‘kind’. He’s selfish as hell.

She’s not really sure what she’s trying to say. Distantly, she realizes it looks bad, but not _this bad_. She’s stuck with him forever as far as she knows, which shames her. She’s ashamed to admit in front of these women that she doesn’t have much freedom in her life, that what she does have, she owes to him.

An uncomfortable feeling, owing the man that once bloodbent her into a small cage. Who lost his temper with her when she didn’t bend under his controlling thumb.

Yenay rolls her eyes, ordering some more fish from the grill for Korra. “Word to the wise? No man is just ‘kind’, Korra. They all want something.”

“Word,” Hua echoes.

A small cup of pale liquid is placed in front of Korra. She frowns down at it before glancing at Lian. “What is this?”

“Baijiu.”

“Uhuh. I gathered that. I’m not really sure I should be drinking this, my mentor never let me…” Korra trails off. Tenzin isn’t here. All his rules for how she needs to live are no longer relevant in this new world. What would it hurt, to partake with her new acquaintances? She’s heard the sensation dulls the senses and calms the body. That sounds fabulous, right about now.

Without another excuse, she throws it back, coughing as it burns its way down her esophagus. It feels sick in her belly, burning, like acid. Then, nausea hits her for a brief second, so she covers her mouth until the feeling fades away.

All that is left is warmth in the aftermath, pleasant. Soft.

Lian nudges her with her elbow. “I mean, you weren’t supposed to down it all in one go, you know. Sip, next time, soldier.”

Ah. That would explain things.

Yenay presses ever closer to Korra, wiggling her eyebrows at her flirtatiously. “So, tell us. Is he good in bed?”

 _What’s this now?_ Korra chokes on a piece of grilled fish, coughing and gagging for a second. When she can finally breathe again, she takes a sip of her freshly refilled baijiu. “T-tarrlok? But, I’m not sleeping with him!”

“She says his name!” Lian announces, as if informing the public of important news.

Hua’s face shifts in slight confusion, her soft features twisted up with drunkenness. “Well, why aren’t you?”

“ _Why aren’t I what?”_

“Sleeping with him, you fool. He was a waterbender, you know.” Hua points one of her chopsticks at Korra, trying to make something very clear. “As chi-blockers, we have been in combat against waterbenders before. Let me tell you, you’re probably missing out on some pret-ty mem-morable times.”

This cannot be happening. Korra feels like sinking into the ground and never returning to the world of the living. “I assure you; I’m not missing anything. Plus, what does being a waterbender have to do with anything? I was a waterbender too, you know.” The past tense hurts, like a rock in the gut.

Yenay moves a bit fluidly in her seat, like a little dance of sorts. “The movements, Korra. All in the hips. Do you want a man that knows how to roll his hips like a nice, easy wave or a guy that has jerky movements that kinda sorta maybe do nothing at all for you?”

Her mind is drawing a blank. Korra’s brow furrows. “I can’t say I really know the benefit…of either?”

They are talking about sex, aren’t they? Theoretically, she knows how it works, but in reality, she has no idea. She has no idea what makes a good bed partner…doesn’t it just matter that you want someone and care about them? Right?

Someone groans in disgust.

“ _Ugh_. Firebenders, don’t touch ex-firebenders or ex-earthbenders,” Lian is drawling, shoulders shuddering. Hua is nodding in solidarity. “They get a no from me.”

Korra flushes, ducking her head, trying not to think of Mako or Bolin.

“I mean, if you’re into guys with no rhythm, go for it,” Yenay is saying with a perverse sort of grin.

“You know who has good movements?” Lian is stage whispering terribly now. “Our Great Leader. He’s the smoothest there is. I could watch that man train all day.”

Nausea rises in Korra’s stomach.

Chomping on her food, Yenay talks around a mouthful. “You know, it’s a pity about the scar and all. But I suppose that doesn’t matter all that much in the dark, does it?”

“Or he could keep the mask on-”

Korra spasms and orders another baijiu. It’s bad enough hearing talk about Tarrlok; she absolutely doesn’t need to hear anything about his absolutely awful brother who most definitely _doesn’t_ have a hideous scar marring his face.

Though, it sounds like perhaps a lot of women are happy to overlook the scar anyway. 

The women continue chattering in locker room fashion. Korra tries to tune it out a bit, feeling vaguely uncomfortable. Hua takes notice, naturally, nice, sweet Hua. “You’re quiet…what’s on your mind?”

Before Korra can even open her mouth, Yenay is cackling again, sharing a look with Lian. “ _The councilman_!”

This has gone on long enough. “Oh, come off it!” Korra says with frustration. “I am not thinking about him and I’m not sleeping with him! There’s nothing between us.”

Yenay rolls her eyes and sips her alcohol deviously, clearly thinking Korra is in denial of some sort.

“You know,” Lian says slowly in Korra’s ear. “If he didn’t take you in, you’d probably still be in prison. I heard he vouched for you. He’s given you a nice life outside of that awful pit we have for the former benders. That doesn’t sound like _nothing_ to me.”

It’s a bit horrifying to realize that perhaps she is privileged to even be allowed to roam free. She’s not behind bars. He’s…Tarrlok has given her this illusion of freedom. It stings, thinking that. She doesn’t want to owe him a single thing.

Yet, here the truth is. Everyone who hasn’t bowed to Amon is suffering. Either locked up, subdued by curfews, or in hiding from the Equalist police. No one but the Equalists are free now. Amon’s perfect world in hideous form.

The lord and master of all those he’s made ‘equal’.

Equally imprisoned under his boot.

Tarrlok has saved her from that fate. Her face twists unpleasantly. “I’m not going to speak on his behalf, but I’ll say that I don’t…I don’t mind him. He’s not awful. For an old man,” she adds as an afterthought.

The women share a chuckle.

When they leave the restaurant, Korra endures more prodding around her living situation. She’s had far too many cups of alcohol, so now she feels pleasant, warm. The inquiries slide across her skin harmlessly. Now, talking about Tarrlok doesn’t quite bother her so much.

“I bet he treats you like a princess, right? Very cute.”

“P-princess? Suuuure, if you count the whole locking me up routine,” Korra replies blandly, slurring. “He’s so…possessive.”

She stumbles on the cement and Lian catches her before she faceplants, hoisting her back onto her feet carefully. They both sway, alcohol making them loose. “If that’s the case, he clearly wants you for himself,” Lian replies. “You should capitalize on that, if you haven’t already.”

Korra thinks of him and the darker emotions that flit across his pale eyes when he looks at her. The way he brightens when she pays him positive attention. If she looks at him a tad bit too long. “He’s predictable, when it comes to me. I…know he wants me. I just…”

“You don’t want him back? Or, you just don’t _like_ him. There’s a difference.”

That makes absolutely no sense. Korra’s hazy mind spins. “Wha-what do you mean?”

Lian tugs her along as they follow behind Yenay and Hua, the pair stumbling along ahead of them. “You don’t have to like someone to be with them. I’ve been around. You think I actually liked every guy I took to bed? Hell no! Sometimes, the moment and the lust is good enough to fill the time.”

Korra isn’t sure that she’s made that way. She wants emotional connection, that’s what she’s always been told is _right_. Tarrlok’s face flashes in her mind, smug, handsome. Self-assured. Many women would be happy to be with him. There’s no denying that, but Korra can’t get over that awful, dangerous look in his eye when she faced him down in his office.

There are small parts of her that simply haven’t forgiven him.

In the distance, she sees a flash of red. Quick. A scarf? There and gone again. Midnight hair, spiky. Korra frowns, feels her heart leap hopefully in her chest. Had it been…? Could it be…?

Had Mako and Bolin been there, in the darkness? Are they with the resistance? Korra hopes so. Though, she also hopes that they don’t believe she’s betrayed them. They’ll understand, won’t they? That she’s had to bend a little to the Equalists? A wave of dizziness hits her and she hopes she isn’t imagining things.

Yenay nudges her. “What are you looking at?”

Korra comes back to herself sluggishly, the haze of liquor warming her and slowing her thoughts. “N-nothing. I thought I saw something, but it was a shadow.”

“You probably drank too much. This is your place, right? Nice.” Blinking, Korra realizes that the women have brought her to the front of her home with Tarrlok. There are still a few lights on, illuminating the lovely home in the darkness.

“This i-is it.” Korra feels a goofy grin slip onto her face. Her body is warm and all her aches and pains are long gone. Alcohol is nice. Why did Tenzin always tell her she couldn’t have it? “I’m gonna…go to bed now. Not…with the councilman. Thanks…for w-walking me home.”

Her voice slurs annoyingly, but she barely notices.

“Oooh. The _councilman_!” Lots of giggles ensue at that, but Korra ignores them.

As she’s walking towards the front door, the chi-blockers say their goodbyes, telling her to come practice with them later in the week. Their laughter quickly disappears with them into the night. Korra blearily focuses on the front door. It takes a few times to get it open, but she eventually succeeds.

Just as she’s about to walk in, she takes one last look into the dark and wonders if she’s being watched.

Then, she shrugs nonchalantly, her buzz wiping away any deep thoughts.  
  


* * *

  
It’s impossible to sneak about when under the influence, Korra finds. She trips over something in the entryway and crashes loudly to the floor with a groan. At least it didn’t hurt all that much. That she can tell, anyway.

Tarrlok is beside her almost instantly, picking her up off the ground with firm hands. Hands that grip her waist and arm with a little bit more intimacy than necessary. Korra almost rolls her eyes. He may as well cop a feel while she doesn’t care, right?

He’s leaning close to her now, his eyes narrowed. Is he going to kiss her? Korra is vaguely excited by the idea, excited and horrified in equal parts. Her stomach twists, but it may just be the alcohol. _Bring it on, councilman._

“Korra,” he sniffs at her breath, looking vaguely appalled. It’s very Tarrlok of him. “Have you…have you been _drinking_?!”

He sounds like Tenzin, but in Tarrlok’s body. It’s almost amusing. Korra laughs, sounding like a dying dove. “N-no…”

Hoisting her into his arms, Tarrlok carries her up to her bedroom. She feels like she’s flying. “Right to bed with you. Unbelievable. This is absolutely irresponsible, Korra. How did you make it home in a state like this? You could have been harmed!”

“I was with…my girlfriends. I’m fine.”

“Says you!”

“You sound like T-Tenzin.”

Tarrlok shudders at that, scandalized. “I’m nothing like that irritable, humorless, bald man.”

This is true, somewhat. The rooms spins a bit, even though it’s completely dark. Her sheets are so soft as he lays her down upon them. His hair is long, hanging over his shoulder, out of the new Equalist braid he tends to keep.

Tenzin has no hair. His head is ssshinnny.

“You have…really lovely hair,” Korra sighs dreamily, feeling tired. She can barely keep her eyes open. She reaches up and runs a few fingers through his long locks, enjoying the softness. She can’t quite make out the expression on his face, but Tarrlok stills, holding his breath as she touches his fine mane of hair. “It’s very nice. Soft. No one has hair _quite_. Like. _You_.”

“You’re absolutely blasted,” Tarrlok breathes, sounding unbalanced. Lost. “You don’t mean any of this.”

“I was…was wrong.” Korra says, mind already drifting to something new. His jawline is warm against the palm of her hand. Smooth, cleanly shaven as always. His face is mature where Mako’s is still forming with early adulthood. “I told you…that you were no…no better than Amon.”

Tarrlok inhales sharply, as if ready to pull away from her, as if struck.

She feels bad. His brother controls him. “You _are_ better than him. Your brother is…a bad w-word.”

“Oh, which one?”

Why choose? “A-all of them.

He makes a noncommittal sound. Korra can’t tell if he agrees with her or not. He should agree; his brother is a terrible, awful man. Tarrlok may be a bastard, but he isn’t evil. Tarrlok smells very nice, too. Her reminds her of home. His hand stroking her side is so soothing…

She misses her mother. She misses her father. Her heart flutters weakly.

Oh, what’s this now? Tarrlok is tucking her in! The sheets are nice, so soft. Very cool on her warm flesh. He helps her undo her hair, his large fingers careful, face empty of any discernable emotion. She thinks about him and what he’s told her before. Of the way he wants _them to be_.

The words of the chi-blocker trio drift in her thoughts, vulgar and amused. Does everyone assume she’s his bedmate, just because she lives with him? That he provides her protection and a roof over her head in exchange for a taste of her body?

If Korra were sober, the idea would infuriate her. Instead, now she feels curious.

“Do you want to kiss me?”

His fingers pause in their motion of working through her hair. His voice is hoarse. “You shouldn’t ask me things like that, Korra. You aren’t…you aren’t in your right mind right now.” He sounds torn, regretful.

It would be nice to be wanted by someone. Her mind dwells on painful thoughts, like Mako and his pretty amber eyes. The old disdain he used to carry towards her. How she had forced herself on him, that one time, out of frustration, her lips pressed against his roughly. How Mako had responded and then pretended he wanted nothing to do with her. Then, he wanted her, after saying he didn’t.

Hot and cold. How can Mako be so hot and so cold all at once?

Her mind zings back to Tarrlok and the idea of power. Of holding control over her jailer over so small a thing. He wants her body. She won’t give it to him. He wants, she avoids.

He lusts; she drifts in detached interest.

“Answer the q-question,” she presses with her slurred words. She wants him uncomfortable; she wants to throw him off while he’s already unbalanced in her presence.

His gaze turns hot, those pale blue eyes of his warming to a burning point. Tarrlok leans down, hovering over where she lies on her pillow. His mouth comes close to her ear, his breath on her flesh. She shivers.

“I want to do more than kiss you, Korra,” he rasps thickly. “You shouldn’t ask questions that have answers you don’t want to hear.”

Her stomach boils, though not from the alcohol she’s consumed. Something flips in her lower belly, something at the sound of his voice, low and full of something dark. Something she doesn’t quite understand.

Those fingers run down her cheek gently. “Goodnight, Korra. You’ll feel like death in the morning, I promise.” He gets up to leave after a moment of staring at her, his eyes dilated in the darkness.

 _Hmm…what an odd thing to say…_ Korra muses as she drifts into a warm slumber, empty of troubles.  
  


* * *

  
  
With a sigh, Tarrlok finds his way down to his study, feeling full of unpleasant thoughts and feelings. Once again, Korra has thrown him off key. He wonders if she does it on purpose, but she’s so empty of cold calculation that he believes it to be an absurd thought.

He’s just weak to her. He shouldn’t be. Even the night before, when she’d been in her bathtub, he’d nearly lost control. He’d imagined all sorts of terrible things, of her being in someone else’s bed, smiling up at some faceless man that wasn’t him.

She’s driving him mad.

Today didn’t even allow for a proper discussion on the matter; she’d been too busy recovering from her pathetic brawl with his brother.

The day has been long and quite terrible. His brother’s earlier visit brought an ill omen of bad things yet to come. Even still; Korra nonchalantly hopping over the wall without a care in the world, without paying attention to anything or anyone. Oblivious to consequences.

The girl is literally the worst at sneaking about. She has no tact, no thought of what her actions may bring about.

Tarrlok isn’t stupid; he’s meant to treat her as a prisoner and he doesn’t. Not really, anyway. Noatak was likely surprised to see her galivanting into the yard as if nothing were amiss, making to climb up the ivy to her window. Sneaking.

The day could not have been worse. Korra facing down Noatak had made his heart race uncomfortably. He’d been afraid for her, even afraid for his own neck. She’d been oblivious to who she had confronted until the last possible moment. Her face had been priceless, realizing she’d been slandering Amon…to Amon’s face.

The fight that had ensued had been quick and brutal. Korra was no contest for his brother. Tarrlok’s thoughts darken further, dwelling upon Noatak. His brother wants him to bend the way he did as a boy…but Tarrlok isn’t the same person. Not anymore.

The memory of days ago, when Korra had first given her goofy speech to the Equalists comes to his mind. Not so much her speech, oh no. He remembers the conversation he’d had with his brother while attempting to give Korra time to sneak away and see Tenzin.

His gift to her.

_“I suppose you let her walk all over you, what with your infatuation,” Noatak drawls nastily, seated neatly with his ominous mask in place. A stranger in a near familiar form._

_The office he’s taken over is empty of his minions; he’d dismissed them as soon as Tarrlok had entered. Tarrlok knows that Noatak is ashamed to be related to him; it simply wouldn’t do well for their relationship to come to light in front of his followers._

_“I’m not infatuated with that ignorant child woman-”_

_The mask tilts with a hint of derision, plain in Noatak’s body language. “All I see is your mouth moving and lies pouring out.”_

_Tarrlok nearly laughs with bitter rage. “Oooh, yes. That’s something you’re very familiar with, I think. Lying. You know, if I still had my bending, I’d be able to see through your bullshit much easier.”_

_Rage. Hatred. Love. They all mix inside of Tarrlok like a poisonous cocktail. The loss of his bending has been a bitter pill to swallow. Nearly unbearable. He’d contemplated death, while in his own captivity. While his suffering had been mostly silent, Korra had easily been a reflection for what he felt inside._

_Destroyed. Useless. Nothing._

_All because of his dearly beloved brother. The one person who could make him feel fear and adoration in the same heartbeat._

_Finding out that Amon is Noatak was probably the worst thing to happen to Tarrlok in a long time. It’s one thing to fight a Republic City Terrorist. It’s another thing entirely to find out that it’s your very own brother, returned from the dead._

_“I removed your bending for your own good. Be glad that I spared your life and cleansed you. I expect you to be grateful. My Lieutenant wanted you dead.”_

_Tarrlok grits his teeth. “I’m aware that your followers especially despise bloodbenders. The irony. The Avatar likely would have fought to put an end to bloodbending to help everyone in Republic City, yet she’s the one treated as a criminal. Locked up. Abused.”_

_The mask is silent, unmoving. Unsympathetic. “I’m not aware of any such abuses-”_

_Pacing, Tarrlok shakes his head angrily. “That is a lie and you know it. You could care less about what happens to her.”_

_“If you recall, I did promise to destroy her.” Noatak’s voice is cold, calculating. “That’s what I intend to do.”_

_Behind closed doors, when they’re together, Tarrlok’s mask of being a good Equalist melts away. Anger and resentment hover under his skin, like hordes of angry ants. “You’ve already succeeded. She’s broken, Noatak. Just leave the girl be. She isn’t the Avatar anymore; she stands for nothing-”_

_Those dangerous fingers twitch. “Why are you here?”_

_An odd turn in conversation, so odd that Tarrlok blinks. “What sort of asinine question is that? To see you.”_

_The mask tilts again, sarcastically, if a mask can be sarcastic. “Are you sure it isn’t because Korra is now on the second floor, speaking with the former airbender master?”_

_Tarrlok’s face goes poker blank. There’s no sense in lying. It’s impossible to lie to his brother. His heart beats a little faster, anxiously, knowing his brother is likely already riding his veins, looking for some sort of weakness to jump on._

_He’s broken a rule; he’s been caught helping her speak to someone from her former life. Someone who can help her plot. Tarrlok feels his chest tighten; he’s going to be punished for this. How did he ever think he could hide something like this from Noatak in the same building?_

_Silence falls over both of them, suffocating._

_Abruptly, Noatak stands up, crowding into Tarrlok’s space, gripping his chin condescendingly. Noatak’s voice drips disappointment when he says, “You’re fortunate that you’re mine. Otherwise, I might react in an unbecoming fashion over this little rebellion of yours.”_

_Sensing his brother’s anger growing, Tarrlok blurts out, “Noa-”_

_Those domineering fingers drop away from Tarrlok and Noatak hisses darkly, “Get out.”_

_Tarrlok doesn’t need to be told twice, turning and leaving to get out to his car, hoping Korra gets out of that room with Tenzin in time._

Silently brooding in his study, Tarrlok takes out an old whiskey and swirls it about in a glass, his eyes tired. He inhales the scent before taking a sip, needing something to take off the edge. It’s warm and caramelly on his tongue.

He wonders if Korra would be easier to manage if he were to truly seduce her. Perhaps being distant with her works best of all; that firebender of hers always acted aloof towards the poor girl. She’s been warming to Tarrlok, but slowly.

Sure, he wants her because he’s a man; he has urges. It’s been so long since he’s last been with a woman. He wants her in his bed just so he can be between her thighs, so that he can taste her…but he also wants her because then, she’s _his_.

She does anything for the ones that she cares about. He knows it. He knows it very well. Hell, she’d faced down his brother, worried about Tarrlok. Korra hadn’t even paused; she’d simply jumped to his defense.

If she were to just come to heel, behave, be civilized…perhaps they could be a team again. They could rise in the ranks of the Equalists and shape the cause from within. Gain power. The non-benders would rally behind her.

They will never get their bending back. She will accept that, someday. No matter how awful it is to accept. He’s already begun to make headway with the Equalists, though Sato has been staunchly against him. Tarrlok will charm him. He can charm _anyone_.

If Korra would just come to desire Tarrlok the way he desires her…

_You fool. Your brother would lose his mind._

Tarrlok shudders and the thoughts warming his body go ice cold.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **AN:** I know, I know. This one took awhile! Life has been crazy busy aside from work being nuts on top of that. Regardless, hopefully this chapter had some fun. I think next chapter we are going to push into some interesting territory finally ♥
> 
> Sorry about the wait! I try to keep up with updates, but sometimes things don't always go according to plan! 
> 
> I'll be getting over to reply to comments now XD seriously people, that's how behind I am. I ♥ you all, because you are fabulous readers!!!


	10. Chapter 10

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mako is an angry guy.
> 
> He's not sure what to think and he's not sure that Korra is the person he knew. 
> 
> After months of watching her, something changes.

They’ve been watching her for weeks, ever since she was released from whatever hole the damned Equalists had been keeping her in.

“She’s a traitor. Look at her; she even wears Equalist clothing. She’s gone to their side.” Lin Beifong, their fearless underground leader, though absent her bending, is still firm in her ways. She isn’t a fan of Korra.

Never really has been, for that matter.

The sentiment of mistrust has been growing amongst the resistance, now that Korra has been in the public eye more and more. It’s insidious, bitter, full of anger.

Bolin has remained Korra’s biggest fan, naturally. Always ready to jump to her defense, even when the odds are stacked against him. Even when everything otherwise shows that Korra is indeed an Equalist now. “She’s not a traitor! She’s just doing what Amon orders her to do! She can’t defeat him without her bending and you know it.”

Lin sneers bitterly. “Then, she’s just Amon’s puppet. We don’t need her.” Many of the resistance fighters nod their heads, agreeing. No one trusts the former Avatar anymore.

Emerald green eyes turn desperately to Mako’s direction. “Mako. Come on, bro. Tell them that isn’t true! Korra is our friend; she’d never betray us!”

Those first few weeks after the fall of Republic City, Mako would have stood behind Bolin in this very matter. Not now. He’s not sure he can afford to lose face in front of the others. He’s Lin’s right hand; he can’t be seen showing favoritism.

It feels like being torn between two very different paths. On one hand, Korra is…was…well, more than a friend. Their contentious relationship had begun to shift, just before she was taken away. He would have liked to see what a real relationship with her could have been like. On the other hand, she’s with the enemy now, willingly or not.

When Korra first came home with that bastard, _Tarrlok_ , things changed. The resistance suddenly wasn’t sure if she could be trusted. Perhaps she had been brainwashed in prison. Who knows what had happened to her in there?

One thing is very clear; she’s no longer a bender. She isn’t the Avatar anymore. Amon equalized her.

They gave her the benefit of the doubt for a few weeks when she first started living with Tarrlok. The very idea of that makes Mako ill, thinking of her alone with that pretentious asshole. They tried to imagine she was being held against her will, but soon, it no longer appeared to be the case.

She _seems happy_ , living there. She chats with Tarrlok at breakfast when they sit outside in his gigantic, prissy garden. Laughs in his car when he drives her around with the top down. She smiles; and not a fake smile. Not entirely, anyway.

If it’s fake, she hides it well.

Or worse, perhaps she _believes_ she’s faking it, but doesn’t realize that she isn’t. Shaped by her captivity, twisted by it.

The Korra that Mako knew wouldn’t have given in so easily. She wouldn’t have accepted this new way of living.

“I don’t know what to believe anymore.” His words are flat, empty.

Bolin looks like his heart is shattering, just a bit.  
  


* * *

  
  
Mako spends a lot of time being angry. It’s his natural state, according to Bolin.

“For a guy who was lucky enough to get away with his bending intact, you sure are irritable.” Bolin rubs the back of his neck, looking sheepish, always walking on eggshells around Mako. “Maybe you need to take a breather, a break…”

“I’ll take a break when we bring down the Equalists!” Mako pours over plans, over secret transmissions they have stolen from the Equalist HQ. Trying to see a weakness _somewhere_. It’s hard to get this sort of information; the chi-blockers are always roaming the streets, day and night. They enforce curfews harshly against anyone not wearing Equalist gear or symbols of supporting the cause.

They’ve thrown countless people in prisons, horrid places that they have heard terrible rumors about, run by that awful Lieutenant. A man who, by all accounts, enjoys causing the misery of benders and ex-benders alike.

So many people live in fear now, that at any moment they could be taken away and never heard from again. Taking bending away was only one part of Amon’s plan; subjecting everyone came next.

Bolin sighs, patting him softly on the shoulder. “Hey, bro, the bad dudes aren’t going anywhere fast. They’ll still be around tomorrow, doing bad dude things. Besides, think of Korra, who has no options-”

The sound of her name twists something hard inside of Mako, every time. A certain longing, mixed with betrayal. He feels abandoned and he doesn’t understand why. Logically, he understands that there is very little she can do without her bending, but why hasn’t she tried to find them?

He’s not going to admit that it hurts, like his chest feels like cracking open, his heart a bloody stain on the ground.

“I don’t want to think about her right now,” Mako hisses, his heart burning, ash in his mouth. “Just…leave me be, Bolin. Go bother someone else.”

Immediately, he knows the words are harsh, uncalled for. His brother’s eyes go wide and watery, as if mortally wounded by Mako’s insensitive tone. With his lower lip trembling, Bolin makes to walk away, to leave Mako alone, so Mako sighs with frustration and disappointment. “Bolin, no, don’t do that. I didn’t mean to-”

Bolin stops by the door, giving him a long-suffering look, hurt still in his green gaze. “I know you don’t mean it, Mako. You just like pushing everyone away from you. You always have.” He leaves, looking destroyed.

 _Ouch_. _Low blow, little brother._

His brother is right though. Mako’s always been…difficult to deal with. Hard to get close to. Arrogant, aloof. Mako is good at pretending he’s not interested in anyone else. He knows exactly how he treated Korra when he first met her.

How she even gave him a chance after all that…he doesn’t even know.

These thoughts lead him to painful memories of Asami, who he knows is in dire straits. Her father, keeping her captive, the freaking madman. Mako rubs his face with a groan. As always, he’s stuck between Asami and Korra; the problem is, Asami looks like more of a victim at the moment than Korra does.

Korra and her blatant, blunt emotions. Korra and her childish attitude of trying to get her way. Korra, who has an insanely infectious laugh that warms even the coldest of hearts.

She’s started laughing like that with Tarrlok, these past few weeks. Tarrlok is always thrilled to be the object of her attention; that much is painfully clear. At least Korra is well taken care of; Asami…well no one quite knows.

Mako feels torn, terribly torn. If he could justify saving them both right now, he would. Asami’s beautiful, lovely. Elegant. Comparing her to Korra seems wrong, but he’s not able to stop himself. When he and Asami first collided, all those months ago, his heart had nearly burst out of his chest.

It’s stupid, actually. Like some trashy romance novel that girls like to read. Love at first sight? Not quite. Lust at first sight? Maybe a better parallel.

He likes them both. He’s never been good at choosing between them. Confrontation with either girl makes him feel skittish. It makes him feel like jumping out a window.

Bolin just says he’s a coward.  
  


* * *

  
When Korra starts routinely hanging out with the Equalist chi-blockers, Mako about loses his sympathy for her. He’s not sure what to expect. He understands that Korra likes to make friends; she’s utterly sociable. However, does she have to make friends with the enemy?

_“Maybe she’s spying?” Bolin had said once, at a resistance meeting._

_Lin had scoffed. “I didn’t think she had a manipulative bone in her body.”_

Mako sees the girl group around town a few times, then more and more. Korra spends weeks with the female chi-blockers, training with them, jogging with them, eating out with them. The women even celebrate Korra’s birthday, singing loudly and terribly off-key in one of the Equalist bars.

It stings. Korra should have been spending her birthday with he and Bolin. Not the enemy.

That night is made even worse when Korra makes it home to Tarrlok’s. Mako watches with gritted teeth as Tarrlok meets her at the door, presenting Korra with something that Mako can’t see from his vantage point. Korra clutches a hand to her heart, laughing, smiling, her voice a song as she says, “You didn’t need to do that.”

Tarrlok looks smug, he always does, but this time there’s a bit extra to it. He’s far too pleased with himself and Mako wants to punch him right in the face. He nearly has to look away when Tarrlok reaches out to caress a lock of Korra’s hair, a fond expression shaping his lips.

Korra stills, staring up at Tarrlok, looking lost for a vague moment in time. Eyes caught on his, as if hypnotized.

This snake of a man, who has twisted Korra against everything she ever believed in.  
  


* * *

  
The Equalists host a gala one evening and Mako and his team keep watch, making sure the main Equalist leaders are distracted while their second team preps some explosives in one of the mech factories that Sato owns. It's like watching paint dry and Mako would love to be anywhere but here. He'd rather be laying down the explosives, in fact.   
  
He feels sickened when Korra arrives with Tarrlok, fashionably late. They look like a lovely couple, their hair braided nicely. A beautiful ornament in old water tribe style is in Korra's hair, bright. It matches her eyes. The only nod to her heritage, as their clothing is appropriate for an Equalist event. Not their usual stiff Equalist clothing, but something more appropriate for greeting death; all black. Tarrlok wears her on his arm with obvious pride, like he's toting around some special prize. They mingle with others, Korra smiling her bland smile. 

The only time she truly smiles is when she looks up at Tarrlok. They don't dance, though it looks like Tarrlok wants to ask her to. 

She dances only _one time_ and _one time only._

Korra doesn't look all that pleased about it, her face carefully blank as she's guided around the room by Amon. Her face, averted politely, eyes over his broad shoulder. She's carefully hiding her emotions. Tarrlok is on the other side of the room, engaged in a discussion that he clearly can't focus on, his eyes constantly drifting to the masked monster and Korra as they both glide across the dancefloor. He's unhappy, Mako realizes. He looks like how Mako feels on the inside. The fact that Tarrlok looks nervous makes Mako nervous.

_Why is he worried about her dancing with Amon? It looks like she'd rather be dancing with a candlestick. It can't be jealousy. No, it's something else._

When the song finishes, Korra and Amon end up beside the darkened balcony, nearly out of sight. His hands tighten on her wrist and waist as he says something in his low voice that Mako cannot hear. Oddly, where he's never concerned for Korra with Tarrlok, he's absolutely afraid for her with this man. Korra tries to disengage from Amon, her face looking uncomfortable, on edge. She visibly tries to get out of his grip, but unfortunately Amon isn't done with her, it seems. They struggle, briefly and Mako almost wants to break cover to come to her rescue. _Dammit, Tarrlok, can't you keep an eye on her? What good are you, man?_

Amon yanks her a few steps further into the dark, roughly, as if he wants to do something that he doesn't want anyone to see. Korra gasps in pain, sounding briefly strangled.

Tarrlok is looking around the ballroom now, anxiety written on his brow. Mako feels tense, his ears straining to hear.

"I'm not done telling you how to conduct yourself," Amon snaps at Korra. "You're an embarrassment to him when you act like a child. I won't have it."

"He's never complained. If he's upset with how I've acted, Tarrlok can say it himself. _You_ don't speak for him," Korra snarls, yanking herself out of his grip, like it's made of poison instead of flesh. "Don't touch me. Don't _ever_ touch me."

"Don't flatter yourself." His voice drips venom. Amon could probably kill someone with that tone. "I know your game with him and if you think I'm unaware, you'd best rethink your strategy. You are nothing but a distraction for him. It needs to stop, ex-Avatar. I'll make it stop."

Looking terrified, Korra flees the scene, making her way back to Tarrlok's side. He seems to deflate with relief, though his eyes search her face in a manner that speaks to his worry. Korra smiles up at Tarrlok pleasantly, as if her face hasn't lost all of its color. Amon steps back into the ballroom, his movements fluid. As if pleased he's suitably ruffled Korra's feathers. His followers fawn over him, the Lieutenant coming to his side with a grin. 

Mako isn't sure he understands what he just saw, moments before. Then, the explosives go off and all hell breaks loose. 

* * *

  
  
They are staking out one of the Equalist factories when they see a familiar figure, creeping through the dark shadows. It’s well past midnight and the moon is clouded. The air, chilly, a certain fog flowing in from the bay. “Is that…?” Bolin sounds awe struck.

“What is she doing?” Lin is frowning, watching intently. “This looks rather suspicious of her.”

Korra looks around, trying to pull a hat down low on her head, as if trying to become invisible. She walks away quickly, ducking into an alley. Lin curses under her breath. “We need to follow her.”

Mako nods sharply. “I’ll see what she’s about. You can count on me.”

“Report back. Do not engage with her, Mako.” Lin stops him, looking stern. “We don’t know which side she’s on. Not anymore.”

He wants to reply that no one will ever know whose side she’s on unless they talk to her, but he refrains from saying it. Bolin makes as if to follow after, but Mako stops him, whispering, “It’s easier to follow alone. The more of us there are following her, the more likely she is to notice she’s being followed. It might scare her off.”

“She _is_ rather oblivious,” Lin says sarcastically. “She might not notice.”

Mako scowls, ignoring the jibe. “Regardless. I’m going alone.”

Bolin pouts excessively, but Mako has to do this. He _needs_ to know.

Jumping down onto the cement, he carefully follows behind Korra, noting the way she attempts to remain unseen. She takes a different path than usual, this time seemingly on her way to the main downtown, even in the dead of night.

She’s very careful, hesitant, though there is a certain energy to her, eager. Excited. As if she’s been waiting for this moment. Whatever _this_ is.

Over walls and around buildings she goes, Mako keeping a careful distance, silent, watchful. He’s good a sneaking about; he wanted to be a detective, after all.

When she comes to the back of the library, Mako frowns. Watching her. She climbs precariously up to one of the windows, perching on the windowsill as she maneuvers the lock without much luck. She seems to be guessing at it until after a few moments of her snarling under her breath, the lock opens for her. She pushes the window open carefully and jumps inside the closed library.

_What the hell is in this library that has her so excited?_

_And; why now?_

They’ve been watching her for months and never has she come close to doing something so strange. It’s almost as if she were waiting for the perfect time. Since when has Korra ever been patient, though?

Frowning, Mako approaches the window and climbs, carefully peeking inside in case Korra plans on hopping right back out. The inside of the library is dark and Mako can’t really see a thing. With a weary internal sigh, he climbs inside, resuming his tracking.

A moment of panic hits him when he can’t immediately locate Korra, but after carefully walking around, keeping to the walls, he hears a loud sound. A creaking, a crumbling, like stone scratching against stone. _What is she doing?!_

He finds her disappearing underneath a statue of Aang and Mako stands there, blinking. What did he just see? Did the statue move to expose a…a hole? In the ground of the library?! Absurd! After waiting a few moments, breathing carefully, he approaches the dark hole, staring downwards. There are stone stairs, leading into pitch black.

He could use his fire to light the way, but she would surely see him. _It’s now or never. Let’s do this._

With that thought, he follows his crazy, traitorous, almost-girlfriend down into the dark.

Carefully, stealthily, he creeps after her, down into the hole underneath Avatar Aang’s statue. The only light down in the underground tunnel is from Korra’s shape, a small orange glow from the candle she has seemingly lit. Absent her bending, there is no feasible way for her to call fire to herself.

It saddens Mako, knowing the lack of bending must be killing her inside.

It has to be. There is no other answer in regards to Korra. She absolutely cannot be alright with how things have turned out. He doesn’t want to believe that she may have betrayed them all. He can’t imagine she is happy without her bending. Everyone must be mistaken.

He’s careful to make sure that he doesn’t make any noise, curious to see what she’s up to. This is the first nearly ‘in-character’ thing she’s done in months; sneaking, scheming. The person he’s been observing hasn’t been the Korra he knows, happy to live a false life.

The Korra he knows would be fighting tooth and nail to defeat Amon; instead, this version of Korra has been making speeches at Equalist rallies. Smiling, that awful smile of hers that never quite takes. It may fool everyone else, but Mako knows.

He knows her better than those Equalist pricks.

The dark hallway, littered with giant spiderwebs, leads to a small little room. In the center, stands a podium, holding a large book as its centerpiece. Hiding in the shadows, Mako holds his breath and watches as Korra steps up to it carefully, the hand holding her meager candle shaking visibly.

This is what she has come for? A…book?

Mako nearly rolls his eyes.

When her fingertips touch the front cover, she pulls her hand away, as if burned, though Mako sees no reason for her to react in such a manner. What is this thing to her? Why is she here, why did she sneak out in the dead of night to come here?

Why did she look over her shoulder, afraid of being followed, the whole way here?

A strangled noise echoes in her chest as she clutches her hand to her heart. Then, slowly, she reaches out once more, laying her hand on the thick cover of the tome. Her head falls a bit and she covers her eyes with her free hand, shoulders sagging deeply. A vision of sorrow and relief, oddly mixed together. Mako doesn’t like seeing her look so lonely, so lost in a world that has turned against her.

With a soft noise in her throat, she flips open the book, running her fingers over the dusty pages. She seems entranced, unmoving. Her voice is soft in the chamber, ghostly; she thinks she’s alone. “I can’t believe it…you’ve been with me all this time…just waiting for me to open my eyes…”

Not wanting her to embarrass herself by speaking some giant monologue, if that is indeed what she intends, Mako steps forward, calling fire to his palm, bathing the chamber in warm, golden light. He knows that Lin is going to be furious, but he can’t not speak to Korra. Not when he has her alone.

“Hey there, Korra.” His voice seems loud in the secret underground room. “It’s been some time, hasn’t it?”

She turns, eyes wide.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **AN:** Sorry, all!! I know it has been some time, but I do try my best to not take too long for updates! Life is just wild and I'm the sort of person who just takes on a lot. 
> 
> Anyway, surprise!Mako POV. I wanted to see from the outside on what Korra has been doing, plus what has been going on since we last were in her POV. Time has certainly shifted forward a few weeks and Mako has studiously been watching Korra become more and more ingrained with the Equalists than we have seen thus far. I like to think that no one is entirely an honest POV in this story XD 
> 
> Anyway, off to get to your lovely comments from last update! ♥ & hugs


	11. Chapter 11

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Korra finds herself caught in a web that she didn't make.

“Hey there, Korra.” His voice seems loud in the secret underground room. “It’s been some time, hasn’t it?”

Her heart stops, stutters-  
  


* * *

~

_*a record scratches…rewind…rewind…rewind…days…and days…the record restarts*_

~

* * *

  
  
He’s playing at something, she thinks. Has been for weeks. Tarrlok is playing something new and Korra can’t figure it out.

A strange disinterest has fallen over Tarrlok and Korra is left wondering what his new game is.

She almost doesn’t notice the change. It happens one night, when she’s going out with the chi-blocker team, her unusual ‘friends’. Usually, Tarrlok’s hackles rise when she leaves, especially late at night. Usually, he pins her with an irritated look, puts up a huge fuss about her getting around. Makes some sort of snide comment about her sneaking out to screw around with boys. Jealous, he’s always _jealous_.

Jealous, because he wants her. It’s flattering, until it suddenly disappears, leaving Korra’s head spinning.

Instead of any of this, one night he remains sitting on the couch, reading, “Have fun. Don’t be home too late.”

Her fingers pause on the doorknob for a second. _Odd_. Then, she shrugs and leaves.

The second time it happens, she frowns. She tries to dismiss the strangeness of it all, but it’s hard to. The third time makes her heart twist oddly.

The fourth time, she feels loss. Like she’s missing something.

She should be elated; he’s finally letting go of his obsession with her! She should be thrilled! And, she _is_. A little bit. Mostly confused. The change has been gradual, but she’s noticed. She’s not a fool. He doesn’t do anything without reason.

Mostly because he’s no fool, either. She must never forget who he is and what he’s capable of.

Another part of her finds it irritating. Like a cheese grater, rubbing against her skin, repeatedly. It’s a slight against her pride. Surprisingly painful. She’s become so used to him and his overbearing possessiveness of her that the absence offends her in a small manner.

Sure, she has the company of her new ‘friends’, but she wants…against all odds, against her pride, she wants his male attention back. Even if she never wanted it in the first place. _Stupid_.

As it continues to occur over the space of a few weeks, suddenly, Korra begins to want the old Tarrlok back. The one that _wants_ her around. The one that doesn’t like thinking of her being happy with other people. It’s sick. It’s wrong. She shouldn’t miss how he treated her before, like his personal property.

How can he go from gazing upon her in the bathtub to practically waving her off at the door?

She feels gaslighted. How can he turn like this? Make her feel like this? As if there is _something wrong_ with her. Her mind spins endlessly around it. What has she done to warrant his strange distance? It crawls under her skin, this awareness that something has changed with him and she _doesn’t know what_.

Korra knows it isn’t healthy, wanting to keep his attention. She should be over the moon with joy, but something is souring it.

He still smiles at her, compliments her, takes her out with him…yet he no longer seems to pay attention to the little things. He doesn’t let his eyes linger on her, not the way he used to. If he’s making a serious effort to do this, she can’t see it.

Even at that horrid gala she’d been forced to attend. She’d made a conscious effort to dress in an Equalist manner that she knew would make him happy with her, but he’d barely said a word other than telling her he was glad she’d come around to cooperating in public.

 _That_ had _stung_.

He’d been so inattentive during the awful affair that his monstrous brother had gotten the chance to put his murdering hands on her, tongue full of threats and insinuations. Amon had guided her around the ballroom, his penetrating eyes burning holes into her cheekbone as she refused to look at him as they danced. He loves his intimidation, Amon does.

She’d had no choice but to follow his lead, biting her tongue, holding her rage and fear in check, trying to appear unaffected by his close proximity. Trying to ignore the feeling of the strong shoulder under her palm or the feeling of her other hand in his, dwarfed. The very hand that took her bending away.

When he’d guided her to the far side of the ballroom, to the darker part by the outdoor balcony, Korra had known it wouldn’t be good, his fingers tightening on her cruelly.

He was like a snarling dog, cornering her where Tarrlok couldn’t see. Oh, how she’d wanted to rip Amon’s mask off and stomp on it in that moment.

Ridiculously, like a captive pet, she’d run back to Tarrlok, as if he’d become her safety blanket. A fact that shamed her. He’d greeted her and kept her company the rest of the night, placing her hand in the crook of his arm.

When they’d gotten home, Tarrlok had been oddly quiet, driving Korra to near madness. She’d finally cornered him in the dark, demanding, “Aren’t you going to ask how I fared with your odious brother?”

“Do I need to?” He’d replied coolly, stunning her into relative silence.

“ _What is wrong with you!?_ ” She’d snarled at him, wanting to goad him into a reaction, _anything_.

Tarrlok had rubbed his forehead, sighing, as if she were giving him a migraine. “I’m afraid I’m rather tired from our night out. Goodnight, Korra.”

She’d stood there, in the dark of their home, stunned, staring after him as he disappeared up the stairs.

Oh, yes. He’s playing at something, the slick bastard. Korra doesn’t like it one bit.

Tarrlok’s grip has loosened enough that she finally sees a path forward…which is probably the only positive outcome in all of this. A way to finally sneak back into the library. A way to fulfill her sacred duty of bringing back bending and saving Republic City.

A way to overcome this madness, this sickness inside of her.

Which naturally leads to now, in the musty dark, her fingers hovering above the fabled book that Tenzin had spoken about, all those weeks and weeks ago. Korra almost can’t believe it’s real. Perhaps this is fate; Tarrlok releasing his grip on her, unwittingly giving her the chance to redeem herself, to escape him completely.

Giving her a chance to escape the way he looks at her. More so; the way she misses him looking at her, now that he _doesn’t_.

When she touches the book, to be sure it isn’t a figment of her imagination, a rush of….feeling courses through her, leaving her momentarily breathless.

Energy, life. It feels electric, just at her fingertips.

_~you’ve done well, Korra~_

Aang’s voice reverberates in her skull, so loudly that Korra nearly falls in on herself, shocked. Emotions run through her like a river down the side of a mountain. It can’t be…he’s been silent for all this time. Her heart beats a little faster with hope; her past lives haven’t been destroyed?

She hasn’t failed everyone after all? A small noise echoes in her chest, sad and happy all at once. She wants to cry; she hasn’t been forsaken after all. There’s still…there’s still hope.

“I can’t believe it…you’ve been with me all this time…just waiting for me to open my eyes…” Korra says to Aang’s spirit, hoping he will answer her, to solidify his continued existence.

_~Yes, Korra. Your heart has been closed, silent. Be at peace. You couldn’t stop what happened. It was fate. You can undo the damage that has been done to Republic City. You can cure the hearts of all those filled with bitterness and rage. You can cure everyone with ener…~_

A different voice breaks through Korra’s thoughts, jarring her from Aang’s words.

“Hey there, Korra.” His voice seems loud in the secret underground room. “It’s been some time, hasn’t it?”

Her heart stops, stutters. The world seems to halt. It can’t be. She turns slowly, eyes wide, seeing familiar amber eyes and dark hair, a serious face watching her with a measure of reserve. The dim light from her candle barely illuminates him, but she knows who it is.

Korra takes a step forward, then another, her heart aching madly, ready to jump out of her chest. She almost wonders if she’s imagining things, but when the image doesn’t disappear, she realizes her longtime crush is standing in front of her. She leaps at him, wrapping her arms around his body in a tight embrace. “Mako! Spirits, I can’t believe it! You’re alright! I’ve missed you- and Bolin! So much.”

He’s not hugging her back, stiff as a board in her arms. Odd. Korra feels a shiver of cold touch her happiness, poisoning it. She releases him slowly and steps back from him to look at his face, suddenly unsure. “Where…where have you been? I was worried-”

Those painfully familiar eyes flash, a hint of his fiery temper peeking through. “Where have I been? Korra, what the hell? I’ve been fighting to save the city from a tyrant! Where have _you_ been?”

Aghast, Korra opens her mouth, not liking where this is going, but he cuts her off shortly.

“No need to answer that. I already know where _you’ve_ been all this time, what you’ve been doing.” Mako shakes his head, looking away from her sharply. “What are you doing here, Korra? Are you helping the Equalists?”

Is he insane? Korra takes another step back, a flicker of anger boiling up inside of her. This is not the reunion she imagined in her dreams. “Helping the Equalists? Mako, I’m trying to help the benders! _What is this_? Do you all…you think I’m an Equalist now?”

Mako snorts, reminding her of a dragon. “Nobody knows what to think. You were missing for weeks, held captive or dead, we didn’t know. Then, you appear again with Tarrlok, living with him like nothing is wrong. How could you? You should have looked for us!”

Oh, this is typical Mako. Korra feels a bitter grin shape her lips. Of course, he wouldn’t understand. He always is set in his ways and expects everyone else to bend to him. “Tenzin and his family are being used as collateral against me, Mako. I couldn’t risk them by simply running off to find you. I took a huge risk to come here tonight as it is. I had to wait for the right time!”

With his arms crossed over his chest, Mako grits his teeth. He looks like he’s refusing to see the reason in her words, like he wants to fight. Maybe he does. He’s always enjoyed a good fight; then against, so does she. “You should have found a way to save them and find the resistance. Instead, you go to parties and dance with Amon like a traitor.”

That’s it. Korra sees red. “ _I’m not even a bender anymore_! Tell me what you think I was supposed to do! Beat down all the chi-blockers in a suicide quest? Amon is more dangerous than you even know.”

Mako growls and so does she, leaving them deadlocked. For a few moments, they both say nothing, just fuming. Korra returns back to her book, unhappy; this isn’t how their reunion was supposed to go! Disappointment is heavy inside of her.

She just wants him to hug her and tell her everything will be alright. She wants him to tell her that he still likes her, the way she likes him.

Mako makes a disgruntled noise. “Why is he more dangerous than we know?”

Shoulders sagging, Korra whispers, “He’s a bloodbender, Mako. I can’t even begin to tell you how powerful he is. Without my bending, I’m like a wet rag against him.”

“A bloodbender? But…that’s-”

“Impossible?” Korra laughs bitterly. “He’s a hypocrite. A true monster. There’s more. He’s Tarrlok’s brother. They are the sons of Yakone.”

Mako seems stunned, staring at her with wide eyes. “I have to tell Lin-”

“Lin is okay? She’s with you guys?”

“She lost her bending. She still isn’t your biggest fan, Korra.” He almost sounds apologetic.

Korra isn’t surprised by that, especially considering her latest track record. “That’s fine. I’ll prove myself to her soon. You guys needs to be careful though. He isn’t a nonbender like we all thought. That’s why I need this book that Tenzin told me about. Aang wrote it….about energybending. It may reverse whatever Amon has done to block the bending in our bodies.”

Mako takes a few steps towards her, staring at her with a certain amount of guilt. “All this time. You haven’t forgotten about us. You’ve been searching for this book? To save everyone?”

“Yes. I’m…I _was_ the Avatar. This is the least I can do for failing all of you.”

He doesn't look totally convinced. There's a moment of self-doubt on his face when he hesitantly asks, "What about...Tarrlok? Do you...are you...with him, now? You seem happy with him."

Cringing inside, Korra can only imagine what Mako and the rest of them think of her, seeing her interact with Tarrlok. Maybe not these past few weeks, but she knows there have been days that are more...dubious than others. "I'm not with him, Mako. I...you still have my heart."

His shoulders sag in some form of relief. Then, he straightens.

When Mako comes so close that Korra can smell the familiar campfire scent of him, her heart flutters in her chest, wanting to escape. Her cheeks flush a bit as he looks down at her, no longer looking suspicious of her. No longer mistrusting her.

This is her friend. She’s missed him for so long. She’s adored him even longer.

“Trust me.” Korra hugs him, unable to contain herself, relieved when he hugs her back warmly. “I’m going to save everyone. I haven’t betrayed you. Just…give me time to figure this book out. I know it looks bad on the outside.”

Pulling back, Mako looks down at her, his eyes finally softening. He sighs, then smiles gently. He kisses her forehead before pressing his head to hers. Korra is so happy she could just die. “I’m sorry I doubted you. It’s just…it’s been hard. I've been suspicious, seeing you with him, the way you look at him...”

Smiling sadly, Korra replies, “It isn't real, Mako."

She wonders if she believes her own words. 

When he kisses her, she feels like floating, all warm and safe. Comforting. His lips are soft, familiar. “I’ve missed you too, Korra,” he whispers as he disappears back into the night.

Parting from him feels like leaving a piece of herself behind.  
  


* * *

  
She’s certain that she’s gotten away with it when a few days pass by and nothing happens. She’s absolutely certain, gleeful. She’s gotten away with a secret.

At least, it seems that way.

Until it doesn’t, one night.

“What is this, may I ask?”

She’s in their living room, sitting by the fire, enjoying her evening tea in peace, thinking through some of the pages in Aang’s book that she read the night before, when Tarrlok enters the room like a ghost, his hip resting against the beautiful wood table by the stairway.

He almost sounds amused, as if he’s a cat that has finally caught the canary. His gaze, that lovely pale shade, pinned on her face in a way that it hasn’t in so long.

It surprises her, to see him looking at her like that. Something flips in her lower belly, stupidly.

For a moment, she doesn’t know what he’s referring to. Then, Korra’s heart freezes into a shard of ice. In Tarrlok’s hand is Aang’s tome on energybending. The look on his face is sly, as if he knows that she’s been up to no good. As if he knows that she spoke with Mako, spoke of overthrowing Amon.

He wouldn’t look like that if he knew she had kissed Mako, would he? The thought makes her irritated with herself, because she shouldn’t even care. Tarrlok is her jailer, no matter how pleasant he looks.

“It’s a book, Tarrlok.” She keeps her tone dry, something she’s learned from him.

His mouth twists in a painfully familiar way, the sarcastic, smugness oozing right through. Korra’s belly tightens and she flushes, hoping he can’t see her thoughts in her eyes.

“I can see that, very clearly. I’m asking _what it is and why_ you have it.”

Korra looks away, feeling trapped, cornered. Adrenaline spiking, along with her traitorous hormones. This isn’t good. How…how did he notice this? He’s barely looked at her in days! Acted like he could care less about what she was up to for weeks! Was it all a ploy? Her heart speeds up, suddenly wondering if she’s been had.

He’s no fool. She knows this.

Looking back at him in a detached sort of dismay, Korra grits her teeth and tries to calm herself down. To remain calm. “Why do you care? It’s not like you’ve really cared about my whereabouts these days, after all.”

Something like triumph flashes in his gaze and the corner of his mouth twitches, like he’s trying to hold back a bigger smirk. “I didn’t realize my…inattentiveness bothered you, Korra-”

“It doesn’t!” She snaps, face heating. He needs to _stop talking_.

He scoffs slightly. “I thought you believed me to be too overbearing? Is that not the case?”

“You are overbearing. You’re horrid, actually.” Korra doesn’t like how he’s leading this conversation around by the nose. She feels out of her depth.

Tarrlok drifts closer to the fireplace, eyes caressing her face smugly. “If that’s true, why are you so upset with me?”

Her mouth opens and shuts, voice absent. She has nothing to say, no rebuttal that makes any sense.

Sighing a false sigh of resignation, Tarrlok shrugs at her silence. “I guess I don’t need a book like this in my house. What if I just-” he holds it by the fireplace, the threat clear.

Korra steps forward, a moment of terror flashing across her face. “Wait, don’t!”

The fire comes so close to touching the old book, threatening to consume it in a blaze of fury. Tarrlok pauses, looking at her carefully. “Tell me what this is, Korra. I’m well aware you sneaked out the other night to get this. You’ve been playing nice. I know you. You’re reckless, but you’ve gotten a smarter. What new scheme is this?”

Groaning in agonized frustration and dismay, Korra buries her fingers in her scalp. “You snake. This is your game, yeah? Lie low and see what Korra does when she thinks no one is looking? Congrats, Tarrlok. You caught me.”

He doesn’t reply, simply waiting. Watching her face with a cool, yet triumphant expression.

“It’s a book on energybending,” Korra utters darkly.

“I can read,” Tarrlok replies waspishly. “Why did you risk getting thrown in jail again to get it?”

She doesn’t want to tell him a thing, but what choice does she have? If she says nothing, he’ll burn it. If she tells him, he may just scold her. _Or…perhaps…no. No, stop thinking like that_.

“I was told it’s the key to restoring bending.” There, she’s sealed her fate. It’s his move now.

Tarrlok blinks in surprise, momentarily silent. Korra can practically see him thinking that info through. Weighing the pros and the cons. On one hand, he probably would like to have his bending back. On the other; he doesn’t want to piss his brother off.

“Tell me why I shouldn’t tell him what you’ve done,” Tarrlok says lowly, something dark and curling in his throat. “It seems I lulled you too far into a false sense of security. Did you really think I wouldn’t notice the fact that you’re trying to get us both killed? I knew you’d try something eventually; I never imagined it would be _this_.”

So, it _was_ on purpose, his whole detachment. To see what she would do. He played her like an instrument. Korra feels anger boiling inside of her. He played with her feelings, making her feel so alone that she _actually wanted_ his attention. How dare he? Rude!

He’s looking at the book idly. “I thought things were going well, Korra.”

“Don’t do this, Tarrlok. Please don’t,” she says, not likely how quickly he’s reduced her to this. “I need that book. If you take it away from me…I don’t…you’ll have killed the last hope of _everyone_.”

The book goes back towards the flame. Giving her a hard look, Tarrlok says, “Why should I stick my head out for people who would be happy with having me live without bending either way? I’m a bloodbender. You know this. They know this. There is no happy ending for me-”

She sees his mouth moving, realizing this isn’t going well for her. She needs to stop it; she needs him to be on her side again. She needs-

Something like panic is filling her, like a drug. She needs to throw him off. "I saw Mako, you know."

Now, his face twists, losing that careful demeanor. That stupid mask of indifference. "The firebender?" he says, voice dripping disdain. 

"I kissed him," she says, feeling pressed to do something crazy, to make _him_ act crazy. "When I got the book, I was with hi-"

"Don't say another word," he grits out, eyes going dark with jealously, finally bursting to life. Finally, showing her something. Something _real_. "Not another word Korra." He leans to put the book in the flames.

Oh, she pushed too far...thinking quickly, she acts recklessly, as usual, needing to sway him, somehow.

Korra lunges forward and presses her lips to his, pouring all of her desperation and loss into the act. She wants him to feel her inner turmoil, she wants him to want her again, to make her matter once more, to _someone_.

_Don’t be my enemy. Don’t ruin my last chance for redemption._

_I’m nothing without my bending._

She’s reckless, acting on emotion, but mostly she hopes it distracts him from destroying her only hope at becoming a bender again; Aang’s book.

He’s motionless against her lips, but Korra doesn’t let that stop her. She presses up against him, feeling the hard lines of his body, well-defined, his body filled out compared to boys her own age. He’s warm, even if he’s trying to remain cold and indifferent.

It’s a desperate act, empty of pride. She’ll sacrifice her self-respect, just this once.

Korra’s hands are tangled in his luscious hair and she bites his lip softly, _anything_ to get a reaction.

It works.

Like a flame coming to life, Tarrlok’s arms come around her with an agonized groan, holding her to him tightly, as if he’s never going to let her go, his mouth consuming hers with a certain fury she knows he can wield.

The sort of passion that he usually allows to sleep under the waves, silent until needed.

He’s like the ocean, she thinks, her body overwhelmed with the sensation of him all around her, all at once. His need for her rises up from under the waves of his indifference, his lips and tongue taking control of their frantic kiss.

This is nothing like kissing Mako, she realizes dimly, feeling her center heat, swelling with embarrassing want. With Mako, she feels familiar, cozy, adored. With Tarrlok, she feels consumed, overwhelmed, _desired_.

She tells herself that she’s buying something with this act, that she doesn’t want it, that she doesn’t _want him_.

It’s a lie that she tells herself. She may be buying his ignorance of the book, but she doesn’t hate how he makes her body feel, the way her heart flutters like the wings of a hummingbird. His strong, firm fingers, gripping her waist, pulling her against him, so tightly that she can feel his desire for her.

She gasps, shocked, vaguely intimidated by the feel of him against her. He’s hard, the shape of him bold against her belly. What would it be like, to take him in hand…? How would he react, what would he sound like?

A tremor of anxiety, of excitement, races through her. This is a dangerous game, the one that she’s playing now. A trade, one thing for another.

He’s pulling her tighter against him, a moan of hunger caught in his throat, his lust for her clear in the way he throbs against her stomach. Korra bites back a whine as her core spasms, wanting _something_ she can’t explain.

She’s afraid of her response to him, this man who has had wronged her, taken her in, wronged her again, taken care of her, desired her…

Pulling away from him, gasping, Korra feels like her whole body is red with embarrassment. “I didn’t know what to think these past few weeks…I thought you…you made me feel alone…that was your whole plan, wasn’t it?”

She doesn’t know what she’s getting at, all she knows is that she’s torn between elation and shame.

“How could I ever be indifferent to you, Korra?” There’s that smug expression on his handsome face, the familiar one that drives her nuts. His eyes are dark with need, pupils wide and yawning like black pits of hunger. “Did you really believe that façade?”

He’s played her so well. He pulled so far away from her that he’d actually made her crave his attention again. Korra doesn’t like feeling like a fool. She scowls, staring at his mouth, swollen from kissing her. “You really are a slimy politician at heart, aren’t you?” Against her better judgement, she kisses him again, her tongue, tangling with his boldly.

She wants to make him weak again. She _wants_ the upper hand in this messed up relationship.

“I always get what I want,” he replies between kisses, one of his hands drifting upwards, his thumb brushing the underside of her breast deliciously. She gasps, feeling her nipples tighten. His voice dips lower as he rubs her erect bud through her clothes, watching her eyes flutter. “Being kind to you didn’t work.”

It’s terrible how correct he is. It’s also terrible how wet she feels from his caresses. She needs to stay focused. While he’s distracted, she reaches for the book, just on the table beside them, seemingly forgotten.

His hand grips her wrist tightly, even as his other hand squeezes her full breast, causing her to moan in surprise. She’s never been handled like this before; he seems to know it, taking pleasure in it. He rubs against her belly, slightly, even as he pulls her away from the book she’d been trying to reach.

“I know what you’re doing,” he whispers against her mouth, voice husky with need. “Don’t mistake me for a lovesick idiot, Korra. I’m not that man.”

With great effort, she pulls away, furious with him and herself. Hating the way he sets her body aflame with a strange sort of need, a need that tastes of betrayal. How can she even think of wanting him? And yet…here they are.

Here she is, her hormones running wild, enjoying his touch on her body, most thoroughly.

Korra shouldn’t have kissed him. “You’re a snake,” she replies carefully, “definitely not a fool. I’m well aware.”

He gives her a bitter grin, as if acknowledging the truth in her words. His hand, warm, large, strokes down the side of her face. “I’m a selfish man when it comes to you,” he replies thickly.

Another part of him is very thick. Korra’s cheeks heat and she tries not to look at the bulge trapped in his trousers.

“Are you going to take advantage of me now?” She’s half afraid that he will, that he’ll ask her to his bed now that he’s had a taste. Instead, he chuckles.

“If that’s what you want. Otherwise, I have no interest in forcing you to have me.” His lips brush her ear, causing her to shiver. “When you come to me truly, it will be because you want me. Not because you are trying to buy me.”

“ _Ugh_. You think highly of yourself.” Korra rolls her eyes, mentally telling herself it will never happen. It won’t! “If you aren’t going to molest me, I’m going to bed, with _my book_.” She snaps it off the table, scowling at him.

He allows it.

“You have to know that even if you get your bending back, he’ll take it away again,” Tarrlok says flatly to her retreating back. “This is an exercise in futility. Do not make me regret this, Korra.” His voice gets slightly unpleasant. "And don't see that stupid boy again."

Korra ignores him, ignores the way he makes her bones feel.

She has to try and save bending, even if it costs her life.

Even if she has to sacrifice her pride and sanity.

Giving him a sweet smile that makes her want to die, Korra says, “Goodnight, Tarrlok. Dream of me?”

The strangled groan he emits causes her to grin in victory as she retreats to her room with her prize.

In the safety of her own bed, she feels guilt creep into her soul. She never….she’s never done anything like that with Mako, the boy that she actually feels for. What sort of monster is she, that she enjoys the touch of that awful former bloodbender?

With a groan of self-loathing, she tries to sleep, holding the book close, willing her libido to calm enough for her to drift into slumber.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **AN:** Hello!! Yes, I know, it has been awhile, but I do try to keep up the best I can. I love all your comments, my sweets, and will be hopping over to answer those shortly. I get so behind with work and life being so wild XD and writing other original fiction.
> 
> Be warned, this month I will be working on my NaNoWriMo novel, so likely won't have too much time to focus on this. Hopefully, some of the action in this chapter will tide you over for a bit!! Never fear, it isn't abandoned, but I am just slow on getting up to date on fanfic when I'm working on other works of fiction at the same time.


	12. Chapter 12

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A relationship changes.
> 
> Korra ends up somewhere she'd rather not be.

_“Don’t you hate him?”_

_Being the annoying man that he is, he plays dumb, just to watch her squirm. “Whoever do you mean?”_

_“Your brother.” Her voice quakes._

_He pauses, sipping his tea quietly. For a moment, she almost thinks he hasn’t heard her. Then, he stares off at the wall of water, the tranquil scene of azure streaming down the stones. “There are many ways of hating, just as there are many ways of loving.”_

_Korra frowns. “That’s not an answer, Tarrlok.”_

_That bitter, yet strangely sly smirk shapes his lips. “Isn’t it?”  
  
_

* * *

  
Korra still thinks of that memory when she’s feeling particularly acrimonious. She thinks of the early days when she first became captive in Tarrlok’s home, lost and depressed beyond all hope and reason. The scene comes back to her more often than not now, as she dwells in her pleasant cage, the place that has become her room.

She thinks of it the next morning when she wakes bright and early. She can still feel his lips on hers from the night before. An echo of emotion, deep within.

Despite the fact that he let her keep the book, she can’t help but fear that he’s going to betray her, that he’s going to tell Amon what she’s been trying to do. That he’s going to tell, even though he finally got to hold her in his arms, if only for a few moments.

Korra isn’t a complete naïve fool. Tarrlok may…want her…but he’s also selfish and will do things to meet his own ends. In his view, if she gains her power and fails, his brother is going to have him executed as a traitor.

This is what brings her to that memory, that unassuming scene in her mind. From the days when her scars and humiliations were fresh, fallen from her status as beloved Avatar. Tarrlok _had_ answered her question, in his own way, in the only way his own hidden scars would allow.

Could Tarrlok betray her? The answer is _yes_.

Would he? The answer is not so clear.

She would like to say that his own anger at Amon over removing his bending is keeping her safe indefinitely, but lately…she’s not so sure she can rely on that alone.

_There are many ways of hating, just as there are many ways of loving._

Those words are in many interactions that she’s seen of Tarrlok and his brother. The way Tarrlok pretends to be more irritated than he truly is -Korra _knows_ when he’s actually irritated, she damn well lives with him- and the way that he says nothing in public when those wide black pupils settle on him, a sign that Korra alone knows means that Amon is using his psychic bloodbending upon Tarrlok.

Like a physical touch that no one else can see.

No one else can possibly know how wrong it is. No one even knows they are brothers.

No one even knows what Amon can do with a simple look, but if they did, they would know that the way he glances at is brother is not without possessive intent.

Deep down she knows there is a bond between brothers that she cannot possibly grasp or understand. A bond that Tarrlok isn’t willing to discuss with her.

Sighing, Korra begins to get dressed, preparing for the new day. She had strange dreams the night before; Aang, trying to speak to her from deep underwater, so deep that Korra couldn’t understand him. Flashes of Mako, just out of her reach, Asami just beside him, looking lost and sorrowful.

Images of Tarrlok, bending water _and_ blood. A smile in his gaze as he looks to her.

Even further in the dream lay a shadow of darkness, full of the scent of copper and misery. A mask of white. She’d jolted awake after that, her heart racing. Even now, memories of the dream begin to fade, leaving Korra wondering what it all means.

When she goes downstairs, she sees Tarrlok drinking some green jasmine tea, the aroma soft. He appears rather serene, considering their prior night. His hair, perfectly in place. His eyes run over her body, a little more familiar than usual. Korra feels her stomach clench and something must show in her eyes, because Tarrlok swallows thickly. He asks softly, “You’re off for the day?”

The scene is nearly the same as it is every morning. They greet each other good morning and bid each other farewell. Only this time, a certain tension hangs in the air, thick. Heavy with the knowledge that the night before had been filled with lustful caresses.

That Korra hadn’t hated his touch.

Trying to act unchanged, as if it never happened, Korra tries to be her normal self.

 _Nothing has changed_.

“Yup. More training with Hua, Lian, and Yenay,” she replies. “Same as always. Gotta get my youthful enthusiasm out somehow, don’t I? You don’t want to listen to my buffalo stomping around your house all day. ‘ _Be quiet, Korra, you walk like a herd of bison,’_ and all that jazz _._ ” She tries to brighten the atmosphere with some humor.

His mouth quirks as he watches her, as if deciding something. Tarrlok wiggles his fingers in ‘come closer’ gesture, which gives Korra pause. This is new. Dismissing the strangeness of it, Korra stalks forward, brushing hair out of her face as she does so. When she’s just beside him, Tarrlok gently takes her by the wrist, pulling her down into his lap.

_Oh._

She barely has a moment to say his name before one of his large hands buries itself in her hair firmly, his nose brushing her cheekbone. Any words of argument die in her throat, stunned. His lips tease over the corner of her mouth, playful, his nose nuzzling her skin.

His fondly kisses both corners of her mouth, creating a rising storm inside of Korra, wrought with confusion and a sting of surprising need. She lets out a shaky breath, feeling unbalanced for so many reasons, wanting to say something to the note of rejection, but all that spills from her mouth is, “ _T-Tarrlok_.”

That damn smirk of his, triumphant. He kisses her fully, slowly moving his lips against hers in a sensuous caress that leaves her spiraling. Her stomach tightens so suddenly, heat flashing through her. The place between her thighs feels swollen and sensitive, needful.

He’s hard beneath her rump. She can feel the swell of him where she’s seated upon his lap and he groans deeply as she tries to shift on him. Her cheeks are red and she feels out of her depth. She shouldn’t-

For a moment, she can’t even think of running away. She can’t even think on how this is wrong, can’t even think to blame herself for opening this door in their relationship. Because, _she did this_. When she kissed him the night before, when she gasped as he caressed _her breast_ , she changed the dynamics of their relationship.

_He caved over the book so easily last night. Lian would kick me for not cultivating this further. Using his weakness to my benefit._

Then.

_I’m lying to myself. I like how he feels._

She’s kissing him back, clenching her thighs together. She’s never felt this out of control before, like she’s going to fly apart and become someone else at any given moment. When his tongue slides against the seam of her lips, she finds her back arching slightly, her nipples hard and aching in her breast wrap.

Those devious hands of his cup her mounds, thumbs easily finding her hardened nubs, pressing against them in a way that has her center throbbing almost painfully. Is he trying to kill her? He must be, because Korra hears an embarrassing whine slip past her lips, straight into his mouth. Tarrlok swallows the noise gleefully, his hips rocking slightly under her before he gains control of himself again.

As if sensing it’s all too much, too fast for her, his large hands drift down to rest demurely on her hips, simply holding her. Tarrlok breaks away from her mouth, kissing his way down her neck. “Have fun today,” he murmurs huskily against the sensitive skin of her throat.

He exhales shakily, as if trying to calm himself down. As if he doesn’t want to let her go, his fingers flexing on the swell of her hips. His manhood is swollen beneath her and Korra is torn between nervousness and curiosity over that part of his anatomy.

Tarrlok gently scoots her off of him, onto her own two feet. Korra blinks the haze of desire away, staring. He’s telling her to have fun while she’d gone? This was a….’good morning’ kiss?

Half of her wants to scream and run away from the feelings he’s evoked inside of her. A terrible part of her wants to stay in the comfort of his lap, warm in the cage of his arms.

Embarrassed and confused, Korra replies without meeting his knowing gaze, “I’ll see you later, Tarrlok.” With that, she races out the front, going to go meet the chi-blocker trio.

He returns to enjoying his morning tea and paper, cool as a cucumber, smirking.  
  


* * *

  
“You look different,” Lian says speculatively, brow furrowed. “Ladies, what’s different about Korra today? Can someone tell me?”

Hua is too busy stretching to pay much attention to this, but Yenay’s lips curl into a wide grin. “She looks a little…flushed. Like she’s been getting it. Or _nearly_ getting it.” She winks.

This makes Hua snap upward, eyes wide. “What?!”

Korra parrots the sentiment with mortification. “What?”

Chuckling, Lian slings an arm over Korra’s shoulders. “Don’t play coy with us now! Dish. Do you have some _councilman_ drama to share with us?”

There’s a dreamy gasp that has to be Hua.

Korra doesn’t particularly want to share any of it. She’s confused enough as it is without needing to have crude jokes pulled into it. “It’s kinda private…”

“Listen to her! It’s private!” Yenany is giggling, cheeks red with giddiness, matching her scarlet hair. “Come on. Don’t be shy. Did you…you know?”

Flushing madly, Korra shakes her head so fast that her brain aches. “N-no. Just a kiss…or…”

“…or?”

“I guess a few kisses,” Korra finishes lamely, feeling her flush creep down her neck, remembering his confident hands on her body. Very confident hands.

 _Experienced_ hands.

The women hoot their congrats even though Korra feels lost and disgusted with herself.

How did it come to this? How did he win this game so easily? She feels like she lost. When he pretended to no longer care about her for weeks, he’d effectively made her _crave_ his attention, afraid that something was wrong with her. She’d been afraid that she was no longer worthy of his desire, even though she’d never wanted it in the first place.

He’d driven her to this. He’d maneuvered her exactly in place, making her willing to _need him_ , to _want him_ , just to feel valued again. How sick is that? Korra groans, covering her eyes. “It’s not funny! I don’t…I don’t know how to feel.” Her voice cracks a bit.

Hua sobers from her cheer. Her gentle features soften further as she gives Korra a concerned glance. “He didn’t…harm you, did he? He didn’t make you do anything you didn’t feel alright with?” Her voice is calm, like a sea-breeze in the dead of summer.

That’s the problem, maybe. Korra’s shoulders sag. “No, he’d…he wouldn’t do something like that. I’m confused. _I don’t want to like him_. I kissed him not because I wanted him, but because I wanted to control him. But…I…I liked it. And. He kissed me goodbye this morning. Not out of any malicious intent, but just because he wanted to. I didn’t stop him. _He’s my jailer_.”

They all pause by one of the run-down buildings, the sun still barely in the sky, highlighting the graffiti on the walls. “So, you feel guilty because you like how he makes you feel, is that it?” Lian, always so direct.

“…I guess.”

A silence falls over them again as everyone tries to decipher Korra’s complex feelings on the matter. Then, Yenay asks with confusion, “Why feel guilty though? Things change. Time changes people. You’ve been with him for half the year, Korra. It’s natural to progress this way…and it isn’t like he’s _actually_ jailing you. You come and go as you please lately, haven’t you noticed?”

_She has noticed, but that was also part of his scheme to bring her closer into his grasp._

“I sort of had a boyfriend. Before all of this happened.”

That makes Yenay nod in understanding. In fact, all three women share a look. “Oh…so you feel guilty for wanting someone else. We get that. Still, like I said…time changes people. Maybe you feel this confusion because you like Tarrlok _better_.”

Horror slashes through Korra. _Is that it? Is that this gnawing dismay and guilt that’s growing inside of her?_

“I really don’t want to talk about it,” Korra says, kicking at rocks. “It’s kind of a new development and I’m not ready-”

Lian holds up her hands in surrender. “We’ll stop, but give us the dirt once you’ve sorted yourself out. The man wants you, clearly, and he’s probably playing for keeps, seeing as you live with him already.”

Nodding sagely, Yenay adds, “Yeah, it’s not like he’s some guy you picked up in a bar and probably won’t ever have a real relationship with.”

_Lovely, Yenay._

“He kissed you goodbye this morning? That’s so sweet…” Hua is muttering behind Korra, still thinking about it all. The romantic of the group, clearly.

It _was_ sweet. But, mostly filthy. And Korra hates him and herself for it.

Deciding it’s time to change the subject, Korra asks, “What _is_ the plan for today? Are we going to go train in the park or…?”

Lian shakes her head. “We have our monthly session today, actually. You should come with us this time. No harm in it. You’re one of us now.”

Korra frowns in confusion. This is new to her. “Monthly session? Monthly training with other chi-blockers?” She pretends to chi-block the air.

“No, silly. It’s more than just training with the others. It’s training with _Amon_.”

The women keep walking, not noticing the way that Korra’s steps falter, the way her heart almost leaps out of her chest out of sheer fright. Training… _with Amon_? She can’t tell them that this is the absolute last thing she would ever want to do. He’s the very last person on the entire planet that she wants to be near. Especially right now.

The loathsome liar. The unrepentant hypocrite.

Tarrlok’s brother, with eyes like storms over the Northern sea.

“He…he trains with the chi-blockers? Like…a normal trainer?” Korra can’t even imagine it. Amon always seems like some ‘higher than thou’ figure and in her mind, she can’t see him training with his people.

As if he’s _just like them_. Which, he isn’t.

Lian is throwing a look over her shoulder, looking quizzical. “Of course, he does! How do you think any of us learned in the first place? He’s an excellent teacher. Very patient, very precise. One day with him and you will improve greatly.”

Oh, see, Korra really doesn’t want to spend more than one second with the bastard. All she can picture is that sneer on his cruel lips, the face that none of these women have probably ever seen.

Feeling like she’s walking to her execution, Korra hovers behind her friends as they approach the bay, where the sun is rising over the water. Reflecting like art. There’s a large group of people already gathered, stretching, practice sparring. The sound of many voices filters over to Korra, heightening her anxiety.

There’s nearly twenty-five people and she’s never been around this many Equalists in a personal sort of setting. She’s only used to Hua, Lian, and Yenay. Her stomach feels queasy and she realizes that she’s scared of not just seeing Amon, but of how all the other chi-blockers will react to her presence.

Hua must see her apprehension on her face, because she nudges Korra gently. “Hey. It will be fine,” she whispers. “You can be my partner. Yenay and Lian like to show off on these days, but I don’t. You’ll be safe with me.”

Feeling a small inkling of relief, Korra gives Hua a weak smile. “Thanks, Hua.”

In the distance, she sees the dreadful Lieutenant practicing with his kali sticks, whirling them around. Some of the elite are practicing with him, using plain kali sticks for sparring purposes. Korra begs the Spirits to make sure the man doesn’t see her. Amon is bad enough.

She starts warming up with Hua, trying to not be noticed by anyone. Korra keeps her eyes mostly averted, hoping to not draw any special attention. She’s heard a few curious murmurs, but for the most part, no one has approached her to say anything about her being present.

“Good morning, brothers and sisters.” That dark chocolate baritone rings out across the practice field, causing Korra’s heart to stop. “Welcome. Once more, we gather to hone our skills to fight for Equality across the continent. Soon, we will fight to Equalize the world. You are the lifeblood of our organization; take pride, my elite.”

Korra can practically feel Hua vibrating with pride beside her. The other woman is smiling with hero worship, gazing at the powerful figure that has graced them all with its presence.

 _Amon_. The Great Leader.

He stands with his arms behind his back as he asks his followers to go through the warm-up routine. He watches them like a hawk and Korra is grateful that she knows the morning routine; it appears to be one of the warmups that the ladies have already taught her. At least she doesn’t look totally out of place. Her Equalist athletic uniform also helps disguise her.

After going through the routine, people start breaking off into groups for sparring. Amon demonstrates a few specific moves up front, which everyone tries to emulate with their own partner. Korra can see Lian and Yenay pulling out all the stops, trying to be noticed. She’s glad Hua had respected the fact that Korra wouldn’t want to be noticed, understanding that both Lian and Yenay are desperate for Amon’s attention.

Hua is gentler than her counterparts and Korra enjoys sparring with her. It’s calming, almost like a dance. They circle each other and go through the motions, practicing the movements and committing them to muscle memory.

Before long, sweat is pouring down their foreheads.

Amon is sparring a few different groups and Korra notices him from the corner of her eye. Always aware of him, painfully so. He’s magnetic, the way he prowls across the sparring grounds, moving like a great big cat. His strength and speed is legendary and no one is able to compare to him in the slightest.

He commands power and respect so easily and Korra wants to boot him into the bay. The jerkbender.

Half an hour passes by and Korra finds herself finally getting the hang of the form Amon had demonstrated earlier. Hua ducks under one of Korra’s strikes, getting her softly in the side despite this. Hua is good at ducking very low and Korra needs to commit that to memory for the future.

As she prepares for her next move, a voice interrupts their practice spar.

“I see some corrections need to be made here. Sister, lend me your partner for a moment, if you will. She seems lost and clearly needs guidance from a stronger hand.”

A chill runs down Korra’s spine as she straightens up. Hua is gazing behind her, eyes wide. She bows slightly at the waist, murmuring, “Of course, Great Leader. She’s all yours.”

Spinning on her heel, Korra finds herself staring up into winter storm eyes, peering down at her through the holes of a pale white mask. The Great Leader towers over her, a paragon of control and dominance, arms crossed over his chest. There is irritation in his gaze, as if angry to find her amongst his elite followers. Korra should say something snarky, like _'guess you'll let anyone join your special squad these days',_ but her vocal cords are frozen. 

Hua steps away, leaving Korra alone with the very man she fears most. 

_Thanks for nothing, Hua._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **AN:** Holy cow, I updated!! 
> 
> I know it has been awhile, but I do try to keep up the best I can with getting an update out here and there for this story. Life is a bit crazy and that probably won't change. I always have waaaaay too many projects that I juggle, but at least this is the only fanfic I'm working on :D  
> ***EDIT: oh lord that's now a lie. I couldn't contain myself and started writing a Tarrlok & Noatak fic with the assumption that poor Tarrlok fails at killing them both. Somebody, stop me.
> 
> Anyway, hopefully the new chapter was fun. Thank you all for your lovely comments!! I will be getting to them from last chapter soon! 
> 
> Also, had to sneak some more steam in this chapter. I'm feeling steam right about now, seeing that Korra has sort of opened the gate on that matter with her shenanigans last chapter. Here the girl thought she could kiss the man once and keep her secret book, but clearly that is NOT how it is going to play out. No one, and I mean no one, kisses Tarrlok just once (unless he only wants them to kiss him once, naturally).


	13. Chapter 13

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Amon and Korra have it out.
> 
> Threats are made. 
> 
> Bad things are coming.

The morning sun is growing warm overhead. The smell of the bay is crisp, fresh in the air. Water, no longer Korra’s to call.

“This is an unusual place to meet, ex-Avatar.” Amon’s voice is that typical, measured tone. “Don’t you think?”

The other elite chi-blockers are sparring as if nothing out of the ordinary is occurring. Perhaps many don’t even realize that Korra is amongst them. That’s fine; she doesn’t want everyone to witness whatever is about to happen anyway.

It’s not going to be pretty. Taking in a deep breath, Korra begins her verbal sparring. “If you mean this location itself is unusual, it _isn’t_. If I recall it’s a popular spot for couples after hours-”

Hua makes a choking noise somewhere behind Korra, likely swallowing a laugh.

Continuing on with her nervous nonsense without pause, Korra says, “…because it’s by the bay and some might consider it romantic, I _guess_.” Korra is babbling, made worse by the fact that the mask is staring down at her with complete disdain. If a mask can exude disdain, that is. “Or, perhaps you mean me being at your cute little get-together is unusual. _Surprise!_ I can see that being unpleasant for you.”

There’s a shift in the Great Leader’s posture and Korra finds herself wondering if he desperately wants to rub his eyes in frustration. Tarrlok does that when she vexes him.

“As always, I’m astounded by your absurdity.” Moving sharply, he jerks her body into position, physically, _with his hands_ , surprising her. He shifts her hips, moves her arms and nudges her feet. “Your form is lazy. All your intentions can be seen from a mile away.”

His hands are warm and Korra is painfully aware of his closeness. Her heart races, moved by fear and nervousness. He can hear her heart, the blood pounding in her veins. He can probably bring her to her knees with a single thought.

The idea of it is _terrifying_.

Once he has her standing the way he wants, Amon steps back from her, shifting into his own stance. “Come at me. With the form introduced from this session.”

“To be clear, this is you giving me _permission_ to attack you, right?” He must remember the whole indecent brawl they last had in Tarrlok's garden. 

“Don’t get smart with me,” he rasps, that certain rough quality at the base of his baritone, curling around her.

That’s all the invitation that Korra needs. She makes her move without much thought, trying to emulate a quick version of the form they’ve been working through all morning. Unfortunately, Amon easily blocks her, all while striking a tough blow to her lower side, nearly knocking the wind out of her.

She gasps, stepping away from him quickly. He doesn’t follow to attack. Instead, he remains standing like a statue of ill will, watching her. Korra feels a sweat break out over her body, pain lancing her. That was a hard hit and she wonders if he strikes anyone else that hard in his group of followers.

Korra really freaking doubts it.

His head tilts as he drinks in the pain in her expression. “Again.”

The second time is no better than the first, leaving Korra crouching on the ground, trying not to vomit.

“Try again.” He sounds smug. Gloating. He’s so sleek, a panther facing down a blob, the blob being Korra. “You’re so obvious with every single movement you make. I can practically read your mind.”

Pissed off, Korra throws him a hateful look. She knows that he’s enjoying this. Bringing her down. It’s always personal, when it’s between them. For some reason, he doesn’t just resent her for being born the Avatar; he resents her because of _Tarrlok_. A piece of the puzzle that Korra simply cannot figure out. “You told me to use the same damn form we’ve been doing all morning! Of course, you know what I’m going to do! You’re _awful_!” Her voice cracks embarrassingly 

Again and again they move through the same scene. Everything _hurts_. Korra tries to focus on his feet a bit more, something Lian told her about a few times. A single shift can be told, a story of intent can be relayed, all from the feet.

As much as Korra hates to admit it, he’s _good_. Amon is really good at what he does. His athleticism can’t be denied, nor can his skill and strength. That’s all without even factoring in his bending, which makes Korra feel useless and pathetic in comparison.

If only she could inspire awe like this, having no bending to her name.

_I can’t best him. No one can._

_Stop. Don’t think like that! Think like an airbender. Or something._

Deciding to do things her way, brash and quite unpredictable, Korra feints in the direction she typically moves to strike in. She suspects he’s watched her spar, hell, she tried to flip a table on him once. He knows well enough how she fights. He must think he has her style down.

 _Well._ Perhaps that’s a weakness she can use for once. He _thinks_ he knows everything. He thinks that if she strikes from the _right_ , he can do his fancy little spin to his _left_ , ducking under her arm to strike her hard in the side. What he doesn’t know is that this is what she’s anticipating from him this time around.

So, she steps very clearly onto her right foot, shifting with her right arm. Amon shifts, rocks on his heels, and for a minute she fears that he’s actually going to spin to his right, but in the end, he does his slick pivot and spin, moving to get under her guard. Korra shifts hard to her left and grabs his outstretched arm just as he’s about to strike her. His eyes widen behind his mask in surprise as Korra slams her knee upward into his chest.

_I bet that felt good, jerkbender._

Shifting her fingers into a ready position on her left hand, Korra moves to strike the open point by his shoulder, almost in disbelief that she’s even gotten this far. She’s inches from striking hard when a crippling pain shoots through her body, causing her let go of him immediately, like dropping a burning rock. Stumbling away from him quickly, Korra presses a hand to her chest, trying to breath again, trying to get air into her lungs. She'd forgotten to breathe from the shock of it.

The pain had been sudden, as if her heart had been squeezed. Shaking, Korra looks up at him sharply, with deep accusation. Those arctic eyes are looking at her venomously from behind his mask, something like surprise and disgust echoing there.

He had bloodbent her.

Korra coughs a bit, trying to settle herself even as dread falls over her. He’d done it right there in front of everyone and not one person had a clue. The idea of her getting one strike in against his person was apparently unacceptable.

Gritting her teeth, breathing heavily, Korra wants to blurt it out. To tell everyone what a monster he is. What a hypocrite. But, no one will ever believe her. These are his favored followers; they’d never believe anything bad of him.

Amon is their damn king.

A shadow falls over her, blocking the sun. “Well, well! Look who it is. A bit worse for wear, aren’t you?”

Korra feels her insides rot and die, a certain sort of sick sweat beading on the back of her neck. _The Lieutenant._ Rubbing her aching side, she puts on a brave front and tries to hide how awful he makes her feel, just the sight of him. “Did you want to have a go at me, too? Like old times? I recall you liked kicking me while I was already down.”

He chuckles, a certain amount of dislike in his pale gaze. “Oh, no. I have better uses for my time today.” Promptly ignoring her existence, the Lieutenant leans close to Amon and starts whispering something to him, so low that Korra can’t make any of it out.

The mask continues to face her, as if reading every terrible emotion crossing through Korra.

Something about the evil glee exuding from the odious Lieutenant gives Korra the impression that he’s relaying something quite terrible. Terrible for her, that is. The way his eyes keep darting back to glance at her as his mouth moves gives her a sinking feeling.

_What is he telling Amon? Why does he keep giving me that look?_

“Interesting. Thank you for the report.” Amon is unmoving, his voice a low baritone that fills the air. Red sirens are going off in Korra’s mind.

The Lieutenant steps away from Amon with a reverent nod, “Of course, Amon. Just doing my duty.”

Amon turns slowly and starts walking towards the far side of the open space, surrounded by trees. “Follow me,” he says to Korra coldly, as biting as the ice in the South Pole. “Now, girl.”

_He beats the crap out of me and then expects me to just follow him? This bastard._

Hua comes to Korra’s side and helps her up from the ground, looking worried. “Are you okay? He seemed…a little rough with you.”

 _Oh? You think?_ Giving her a sickly grin, her insides rebelling, Korra replies, “Oh, those were just love taps. Nothing to worry about.”

Glancing at the wooded area that Amon has moved over to, Hua whispers to Korra, “He’s waiting for you.”

“Clearly.”

Korra leaves the training grounds, following after the last man on earth that she’d ever want to follow.

Approaching him, feeling like she’s walking to her doom, Korra stands a few feet away, not quite in the shade. Amon is leaning against one of the trees, clearly at home with the shadows surrounding him. He’s intimidating, arms crossed over his chest.

Korra doesn’t like to dwell on the fact that she knows that there’s a very attractive man underneath all that intimidation and brutal determination. It would be easier if he were disgusting, like he is on the inside.

He remains silent, simply observing her.

“What do you want? Wasn’t that very public humiliation enough for one day?” Korra sounds worn, even to her own ears.

“I thought you’d like to hear that we will soon be moving our cause onward, to more cities within the Earth Kingdom.”

Korra’s mouth goes dry. He can’t be serious. Republic City isn’t enough? Of course not, who is she kidding? He’s a madman. “When?”

There’s a soft noise, like a chuckle, emanating from under his mask. Korra imagines that his chest rumbles with the sound. “Soon. I thought you’d like to know that I intend to bring you with.”

Even worse. “Why would you even entertain that idea?” Even as the words leave her mouth, Korra realizes how stupid she is for saying them.

“Because, if you don’t show your face and your acceptance of the cause, I will lock Tenzin in the worst prison we have until you decide to help persuade the other cities.” Amon’s voice is cool, confident. Completely sure he has her exactly where he wants her.

He does, mostly.

Because Korra doesn’t doubt that he _can and will_ do terrible things.

Mind feeling sluggish and disjointed with her nerves, Korra says, “Will Tarrlok be coming with?”

Silence. She can almost feel him staring a hole into her face. “No.”

A rush of sudden fear crashes through her. Like a child who has had their safety blanket stolen from around their shoulders. “Tarrlok won’t like-”

Amon cuts her off sharply. “I don’t need to hear from you what Tarrlok _does_ and _does not_ like.”

Pursing her lips, Korra looks away from him, feeling her face heating with a whirlwind of emotions.

“I called you over here because I’ve heard some things that need to be discussed. But first…” He seems to be chewing on his words, as if reluctant to say what comes next. “How is the councilman doing these days? He’s been…absent.”

 _Oh. Interesting._ Korra wonders how she can torment him a bit. It’s what he deserves, after all.

“He’s been _quite_ involved, if you catch my meaning. Are you missing him? I can send him your love, if you want.” She means it as a joke, a minor rebellious laugh at the fact that he’s been hiding his relation to Tarrlok from his own people.

It doesn’t quite get the exact reaction she expected, surprising her.

His pupils go small, like needles, eyes alight with a strange sort of shameful anger. His body tenses and a flicker of pain walks down her spine, her fingers crunching under the weight of invisible hands. As if being squeezed. She gasps, fear a living thing inside of her.

It's a clear warning to stop while she’s ahead. The idea of him exerting his full power over her again nearly makes Korra beg him like a little girl to not hurt her, that she’d do just about anything to not feel that pain once more.

She keeps her mouth shut and hopes her eyes speak for her. Desperate and pleading, despite her pride.

That voice, dark and rusty. “You insolent girl. Like you understand _anything_.”

For a minute, his psychic grip tightens, causing Korra to utter disjointedly, “I…didn’t mean…a-anything by it. You-you can’t…possibly doubt your…importance to him. Even _I_ see it.”

The grip loosens, if only slightly. It’s a horrifying feeling, to know that the presence that Korra feels is her greatest enemy, controlling her body. Feeling her emotions, able to dominate her with a thought. His grip on her body is something she physically feels, even if he’s not beside her.

A phantom touch.

He’s looking at her with that snake-like tension in his body. Ready to strike at any moment. Korra mentally curses herself for teasing him in regards to Tarrlok; it never seems to go over well. The older brother syndrome is times five thousand where Amon is concerned and he takes it to a new level of overprotectiveness.

“I think that’s enough about the councilman from you.”

Korra nods carefully, trying to convey that she’ll say not a word about Tarrlok to him again during this conversation. She can’t put her finger on it…but it’s almost jealousy, that’s in his gaze. But that…that can’t be right.

Can it? _Over Tarrlok_? She must be losing her mind.

“Can I go? Or did you have something else to say?” Korra wants to get away from him as soon as possible.

“I always have something else to say.” His voice is dry. “Your attempts to assimilate appear quite honest, to the untrained eye. Well done,” he drawls quietly, his voice blocking out the rest of the world for Korra. “I almost believed you.”

It’s as if an icy rock has grown in her belly, hearing those cryptic words. Now what?! This day is not going according to plan. “What do you mean? I’m making friends with Equalists. I’ve gone to your events. I _have_ assimilated.”

“Have you?” A soft question, filled with danger. A certain finality, like a knife to the gut. “Have you, Korra?”

When he says her actual name, Korra knows something is seriously wrong. Her hands shake with nerves and she’s ashamed that he has this effect on her. She’s never feared someone more in her entire life. Her nightmares are full of him, the sound of his voice, the feel of his hands.

There is no one on the planet that makes her feel more insignificant.

She’s not used to feeling that way.

“My Lieutenant was informed late last night that you were seen in the company of known rebels against the cause.”

Korra’s blood freezes in her veins, full stop. _This can’t be happening_.

“It’s a lie,” she says quickly. “Your Lieutenant has it out for me and wants to lock me up in his creepy dungeon again.”

When he laughs, it’s a sharp, bitten sound. “You’re lying right now. You can’t lie to a bloodbender; we can always tell based off the sound of your heart.”

“If my heart is racing, it’s because I’m terrified of you,” Korra hisses.

“Be that as it may, you were with rebels, trying to overthrow my authority. I ought to throw you back in that hole of a prison. I ought to have you executed tonight.” He says it in that scolding manner that Korra can’t abide. He’s _not_ her older brother.

“Why don’t you just kill me then? Get this hell over with, you sadist!” The rush of emotion that pushes through her is infuriating, a rush of hopelessness. "You halfway killed me when you took my bending; please just finish the job and put me out of my misery."

In the blink of an eye, he’s beside her, shielding her form from the view of the practicing equalists on the training field. Korra steps backwards until her back hits a tree, her fingers digging into the bark as if it will ground her. Amon follows her, step by step, stalking her, taking over her space.

He smells of clove, smoke, and sandalwood, an interesting mix of spice and forest. He doesn’t smell like a waterbender at all, nothing of snow, ice, and fresh fir trees. No, he reminds her more of the fire nation, scents that enfold you and consume you.

It’s strange, that a man with such a cold heart could smell like a roaring fire in the middle of a midnight forest.

Wordlessly, Amon raises a hand and places it on her throat, encircling it partially. The heat of his hand, the weight of it. The power. She wonders if he can feel her heart fluttering against his palm. It’s terrifying intimate, a heady mix of fear and strange physical arousal, caused by her heightened senses.

He could do anything and she wouldn’t be able to stop him. Korra imagines he enjoys that.

The hand on her throat is for show; he doesn’t need to touch her for what he does next.

Korra’s throat closes slowly, bit by bit, making it hard for her to breathe. A small tickle. Then, more. Soon, she’s gasping, as if trying to breathe through a straw. Eventually, there’s nothing and her limbs seize, struggling, her hands clawing at him desperately. Her throat feels like it’s burning, being crushed into pulp. His body lines up with hers and he presses her against the tree, trapping her completely. 

He’s going to kill her. He’s going to choke her to death.

Those cold eyes watch her, pupils completely taking over his pale irises, a sure sign of his bloodbending being exerted over her. Korra feels her limbs get numb, weak, everything going fuzzy. She stares at his eyes, such gorgeous, hateful eyes. She tries to focus, watching when the pupils finally constrict into tiny pinpoints, exposing the icy sea blue once more.

Just as she’s about to completely black out, her air returns to her.

Amon releases her, letting her sag to the ground in a gasping, sobbing heap. “I trust you will remember this lesson, the next time you think to defy me. You’ll also remember that next time, I might just make Tenzin or one of his wretched spawn your lesson to be learned.” He pauses, examining the hand that had been around her throat. “Cease your nonsense with the rebels. I’ll have them crushed soon. Eventually, the Equalists will be all you have left.”

Wanting to hurt him, even knowing that’s a dangerous thing to want, Korra croaks out, “I’ll still have Tarrlok.”

“Get out of my sight, you _wretched girl_ ,” he snarls in return.

Korra doesn’t need more motivation than that to flee the scene, eager to get away from him.

It’s as she’s running, trying to ignore the horrid pain in her throat, that she realizes that someone had to have told the Lieutenant about her meeting with Mako. It leaves her wondering if the book was mentioned or not.

She’d been so careful! The only person…the only person who could have possibly known about it was Tarrlok. Her chest tightens as she realizes what that means.

Tarrlok…Tarrlok told. He told someone that she’d seen the resistance.

Korra’s vision turns red.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **AN:** Comments and kudos are loved! 
> 
> Woof. It took me a long time to get this out, but that was mainly because I just needed to sit down and finish the darn chapter. I got distracted by two oneshots for another fandom and then got myself distracted by writing some Amon/Tarrlok smut garbage :D but yes, here we are with another update. The story is still moving forward, just slowly! I started a new job, so that is taking up some time too.


	14. Chapter 14

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Korra tries to hold on to her anger.
> 
> She fails. Spectacularly.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **AN:** Happy Valentine's Day, slutty babes ♥

Korra sees nothing other than her goal to get back home and rip Tarrlok to shreds underneath her fingernails. Destroy the searing feeling inside of her.  
  
 _The snake. Lying to me, making me believe he’s willing to turn a blind eye. That he’s on my side. Ugh._

It burns, this betrayal. What’s worse; she should have expected it. Korra should have known, should have realized that he’s always out for himself. Tarrlok always has ulterior motives for everything. She’s angry enough to want to shed tears of frustration. How could she have been such a foolish, naïve girl?

If Amon knows that she’s met with Mako…what else does he know? Does he know about Aang’s book? Did Tarrlok just blab about it all? Spineless, smirking rat!

When she finds herself standing outside the front door of their home, Korra tries to calm her rampant emotions, but fails immeasurably. She’s too shaken, too stricken by the morning’s events. Emotionally drained and physically humiliated after getting taken down a peg by her worst enemy.

This betrayal though…it’s the cherry on top of this crap sundae.

 _Tarrlok_. _When will I ever learn that you can’t be trusted?_

Stalking inside, her deep cyan eyes sweep the open space of the home, searching for her intended victim. The first floor appears empty as she storms through a few different rooms, looking for him. Hearing a noise come from above her head, she realizes he’s upstairs.

Probably in his room.

This gives her only momentary pause. Normally, confronting Tarrlok in his room, his private space, is the last thing she’d ever want to do. It seemed too intimate, somehow inappropriate, considering the nature of their relationship.

An older man, alone in his room with a younger woman? Scandal. An older man who is admittedly pursuing said younger woman? Red flags everywhere. Warning signs that you simply can’t miss, blasting you in the face.

It’s not a wise choice, but Korra isn’t known for making wise choices. No, she’s _spontaneous_.

Korra acts on her instincts and her roiling emotions…even if those things are often not the best course of action.

Making her way up the stairs, Korra buries herself in her outrage and her betrayal, allowing it to fuel her. She’s going to give that fancy bastard a piece of her mind, she’s going to make him regret throwing her to the wolves and betraying her trust, _as he always has_.

His bedroom door is wide open; he didn’t realize she’d be home so soon, clearly. Usually, he keeps it closed. Korra can smell his cologne in the air, hovering thickly, reminding her of winter and cold and frigid moonlight.

A chilly scent in the face of her heated emotions.

Standing in the open doorway, Korra feels her shoulders hunch aggressively, hands clenching as she sees him walking out of his private spa bathroom, his long hair mostly dry and shining around his shoulders, tall frame encased in a simple bathrobe.

 _Oh, he really didn’t think I would be home, did he?_ The thought is a vicious sneer in her mind. _Just an idle, relaxing bath while I’m gone, getting beat into a pulp by his dear brother, yeah?_

He’s not seen Korra yet, so she pauses just outside the room, staring at him, taking in his calm, his obliviousness of what he’s done. How stupid lovely he looks, the sunlight pouring in through his open windows, glittering across his deep brown hair. Why does he have to look… _look like this_? It’s _not_ fair. All of it fuels the fury building in her chest, the fury she wishes she could express with a blast of flame.

She’d love nothing more than to firebend him into ash right about now.

“You scumbag!” Korra snarls into the silent air, finally storming into the room, eyes flashing.

Tarrlok’s face contorts at her rude greeting, face snapping in her direction, eyes wide. A momentary blush highlights his fine cheekbones as he realizes he’s only in a robe and she’s already in his room, coming at him with her famous scowl.

Korra growls, taking a swing at his face, _“How could you?!”_

To his credit, Tarrlok doesn’t miss a beat. His face hardens and he blocks her strike casually, oh so casually. “What are you on about now? You were fine this morning. I know mood swings are part of your charm, but _honestly_ -”

Korra hits him a few times, landing a solid scrape on his cheek. Seeing his blood makes her feel only slightly better.

A mood swing? A _mood swing_!? Korra gives a cry of frustration, pushing at his chest with a single finger. “This is not a damn mood swing, Tarrlok!”

Irritation now growing in his gaze, Tarrlok slaps her prodding finger away. “Oh? Then what is this about? Do enlighten me. Did your firebender boyfriend dump you?”

She sees red, seething. Spirits, her jaw hurts from clenching so hard. “You’d like that, wouldn’t you? But no, you know what you did, Tarrlok. Stop playing innocent! It’s _not_ a good look on you!” Korra takes another swing at him, but Tarrlok uses his height to his advantage and grabs both of her wrists.

With a grunt of effort, he throws her back onto the bed, wrestling with her. “Will you stop this nonsense! You _will_ act like an adult in my house!”

“Let me up! Get off of me, you snake!” Korra thrashes wildly, suddenly feeling like the tables have turned against her.

“Not until you calm yourself down and stop trying to claw my eyes out,” Tarrlok grunts out, panting with exertion. He puts his weight on her, waiting until her body finally relaxes out of despair. Korra can’t physically over power him and she knows it.

 _For now_. She’ll wait until he lets his guard up again. Then, she’ll strike.

Her lips quiver as she stares up at him. “You told him! You told him about- _ugghhhh._ ” The emotions that well up inside of her make her eyes burn and she hates having to feel like this in front of him. She hates feeling _anything_ around him, actually.

“Told who? About what, Korra?” A nasty glimmer is in his eye. The scrape on his cheek is still oozing blood. His hair spills over his shoulder, unbound. She can smell his scent, chilly and fresh, surrounding her.

Encasing her. Biting her lip, she forces herself to focus on her fury and disgust in him, not her rather unfortunate attraction.

“The book! About…about Mako! You absolute traitor, I can’t believe I trusted you!” She tries to get her wrists out of his grasp once more, seeing red, wanting to claw his face to pieces once again. He’s _ruined_ her chance at fixing things. If they take the book away, everything is over. She’ll never be a bender again. She won’t be able to save anyone, not even herself. Just a useless girl. “You told that slimy Lieutenant everything, knowing he’d tell your… _brother_.”

No matter how hard she tries, she can’t overpower him, his hands are tight and immobilizing on her wrists. Tarrlok stares down at her with a piercing stare, breathing heavily. The scent of tea on his breath is soft, yet spiced with clove and orange. Warm and enticing. Dark and cloying. Korra tries to kick a him, seeing as her hands are trapped in his unyielding grasp.

It does little, only causing him to press down on her more. The shoulder of his robe loosens in the struggle, exposing the line of neck and shoulder. Korra’s eyes catch on his skin and she huffs in dismay at herself.

Why is her body so exasperating? Why is her situation so impossible?

Her attempts to harm him physically are utterly futile. He won’t move until she calms, truly calms. Korra groans in frustration and sags a bit, emotions raw and spilling out of her like a broken glass trying to hold in the sea. Panting, she utters, “How could you? How could _you_ do that to _me_? I trusted you.”

Tarrlok’s eyes flicker with a strange emotion before he hides it behind his stern, father-figure expression. As if he’s going to scold her and set her right again. Lord his power and control over her until she comes to heel and behaves the way he wants. “Are you done? With your ill-thought, childish tantrum?”

Remaining silent, Korra glares. She’s not _childish!_

Taking her silence as some sort of agreement or acceptance, Tarrlok speaks in a harsh tone. “You honestly believe I told him about the very thing that could land me in prison? That could cause me to lose my head? Do you even think before you jump to such stupid conclusions, Korra?”

Yanking at her hands, trying to get away, Korra feels a snarl pull at her lips. She wants him to stop looking at her like she’s a fool. She wants her body to stop feeling twinges of…of something whenever she struggles against his firm body. “He’d never kill you! It’s a _lie_ , whatever he’s holding over you as a threat is a _lie_! You matter _far too much_ to him. I’m not _blind_ , Tarrlok, and I've seen how he looks at you when he thinks no one will notice. How is it stupid of me to consider you’d tell _your brother_ that I’ve made contact with the resistance? That I have a book to bring him down?”

His eyes dart around at that. “Lower your voice. You never know if someone could be listening.”

“No one is listening to us,” Korra replies nastily. “It’s just you and me, pal.”

She watches as his throat works, wanting to sink her teeth in hard. _There’s something wrong with me. How twisted up have I become, to want the man keeping me here? The man who works with my enemy?_

Tarrlok leans down to whisper in her ear, “If you think spies don’t occasionally stop by, you’re more foolish than I imagined. Listening outside our windows, peeking in through the curtains. Neither of us are above suspicion.”

He’s right and she hates that.

Closing her eyes, she tilts her head away from his, hating how strong he is, loathing how much she likes when he pins her down in this fashion. She shouldn’t, _she shouldn’t_. “Why should I believe that you didn’t betray me? You don’t care about me at all. You only care about your own ambitions. I _know_ that about you.”

There’s a noise he makes in his throat, something she can feel reverberate in his chest. He shifts, moving to line their bodies up, pinning her completely across his sheets. Tarrlok is staring down at her with dark eyes, heated with that typical mix of irritation and twisted desire. His want to have something he shouldn’t have.

Korra knows a thing or two about that. Her days of wanting Mako, of being so enamored of him, wishing he would just look at her with affection in his golden gaze. Her venomous jealousy when he so easily gave it to Asami. The way her crush nearly tore them all apart, hurting Bolin, hurting Asami.

She still wants to be with Mako. She _does_ , but-

He’s not here. He’s not with her and if push came to shove, sometimes she wonders if he’d choose to save Asami first. The inkling of doubt troubles her.

No, Mako isn’t here and Korra craves human contact. Thrives on it. All she has is Tarrlok and he gives her freely what Mako never truly did. It’s not right, it’s wrong, it’s sick, she’s not well in the head. It’s because she’s been trapped here with him, nothing more.

The scent of Tarrlok covers her, consumes her. Tarrlok’s too close, far too close now. Korra’s chest heaves with her heavy inhales and exhales, fury and anticipation in her breast. Along with something else, heat coiling deep in her belly. His hips are pressed against hers and she can feel him through the thin material of the robe, hot and hard.

Her emotions are high and it’s so simple for her body to betray her intent, to make this something it isn’t. Her center feels achy, like she’d love to shift her hips again to feel a certain friction. _Don’t don’t don’t,_ she thinks to herself, not wanting to feed this unhealthy want.

Tarrlok is looking down at her with a dark, heavy look, full of a meaning that she can’t escape. “Tell me, Korra. Why would I want to risk him coming down on us when I finally have what I want?”

Her stomach clenches something fierce as she stares into his deep-sea eyes, eyes that are getting darker by the second. He can’t…he can’t possibly mean…

“Why would I throw away what I have?” His lips are against her ear, breath tickling her, making her skin prickle. His voice is low, rough. “If he knows you saw the resistance, it isn’t because I told him.”

Tarrlok is practically lying on her, his legs on the outside of her own. His upper body rests on his forearms as he looks down at her, eyes searching her face. The sound of their breathing fills the room, going rough and uneven.

“What is it you think you have?” She whispers the words, unable to look away from him, trying to understand. He didn’t…he didn’t betray her? All because he-

His lips quirk in that annoying, smug way. Male pride and all that obnoxiousness that somehow makes her insides twists. His voice curls deep inside of her when he says thickly, “What do you think?”

Korra knows what he’s about to do, sees it in his gaze. Steeling herself, she tries to head it off. “…no, Tarrlok- _don’t_ , I’m _pissed at you_ -”

His fingers wind their way into her hair and his lips press to her jugular, kissing his way to her collarbone, stealing her breath away, there and gone. She can’t breathe, especially not when his kisses grow rougher, sending sparks of pleasure through her body. Her neck, utterly sensitive to his ministrations.

Tarrlok’s lips finally find hers and Korra gasps into his mouth as he grinds down against her hips. As her mouth opens, his tongue dances across the seam of her lips, licking into her like a cat. Hungry for more. His erection is firm against the place between her thighs, rubbing with every grind of his hips. Driving her to shameful heights.

It’s hateful, how good he is at turning her body against her, playing with the libido that comes from her rather hormonal stage in life.

He groans deliciously when his tongue touches hers and Korra nearly whines at the sound of him enjoying her so thoroughly, just from a kiss, just from their bodies pressed together. Only her clothes and his thin robe is between them, and already his shoulder and strong neckline is bared to her.

She barely notices when he stops pinning her to the bed with his hands on her wrists. Instead, he’s touching her, greedy. He palms one of her breasts, thumb feeling for her pebbled nipple through her clothing. Her hips jerk of their own accord against his length and she gasps in embarrassment.

This isn’t supposed to happen! Korra tries to find her resolve that this shouldn’t happen, he’s manipulating her again. “You can’t just kiss your way out of problems-”

“Shush,” he mutters distractedly, kissing his way down her neck one more. He pushes at her neckline, licking at the tops of her heaving breasts.

“Don’t you shush me- _oh_. _Oh…_ ”

He’s maneuvered her top down further, nibbling at the sensitive skin of her breasts. So close to her…she flushes…her aching nipples. If he were to move his tongue further, just a bit more, he’d be tasting her erect buds.

And then, _he does_ , making her gasp and arch her body in torrid surprise.

_This isn’t appropriate, this is so wrong, I shouldn’t enjoy what he does to me, but I can’t…I’m too weak, I-_

She doesn’t want to admit that she doesn’t want to stop him. She feels wet in her core, swollen with need, wanting to rub against his firm shaft, pressed against her, raising her to greater heights. Pleasure is building inside of her, mixing with her shame, resentment, need, and dying anger.

It’s like an addiction and she should stop, but she’s too high on how he’s making her body feel.

No man has ever seen her…naked breasts. No man has touched her nipples the way that he’s doing in this very moment, his mouth suckling loudly at her dark buds. For a moment, Korra has doubts, fears that what if he doesn’t like them? What if they aren’t…what if they don’t match up to the women he’s had before? It’s embarrassing and she doesn’t like feeling out of her depth.

So inexperienced. So in need of teaching from him on what her body enjoys.

 _He’s an awful smug bastard and I hate him_.

Tarrlok is groaning against her breasts, nuzzling them with his nose, panting roughly.

Up until now, Korra has left her hands fisted in his sheets, not sure what to do. Tarrlok pulls back only slightly, looking up at her while he kisses her nipples in a way that has her moaning. His eyes are dark, pupils eating his pale irises.

“Touch me, Korra.”

A moment of terror and confusion strikes her. He wants her to what now? Heat suffuses her face and she feels far out of her depth. What does he-

He’s dragging her hand down his body, to his hard length. Her anxiety must show on her face, oh so briefly, because his expression softens. His voice is tight as he begs, “ _Please_.”

_Well gee, if you’re going to ask so nicely…_

She allows Tarrlok to press her palm against him, feeling stunned, unable to look away, not able to flee the scene. Not sure she even wants to, curious about how he feels. He’s a firm length, through his robe and Korra presses and rubs in an explorative manner, in awe of the way his breathing changes, the way he shudders and his eyelashes flutter with enjoyment.

She could make him come undone this way, couldn’t she? Power, at her fingertips.

His hand snakes down between them, pressing against her front knowingly. Korra gasps, feeling his palm rubs in small circles against her swollen clit, even through her bottoms. His mouth comes to rest at the crook of her neck, his breath comes in hot little bursts as he works her into a state she can’t come back from.

When his fingers creep into her pants, seeking her most private place, Korra feels the forbidden aspect of it all make her want it more. He shouldn’t be touching her, he shouldn’t be sucking on her neck, placing his mark there, making her touch his swollen cock. But, he is. And…she’s going along with it.

 _It feels good_ and she has so little good these days.

He’s weak for her and maybe, just maybe she’s weak for how he makes her feel.

The broad pads of his fingers are just rough enough against her swollen clit, pressing and rubbing in a way that has Korra gasping, trying to keep a hold on sane thought. She feels close to something, like she’s about to fall off a cliff, her underwear soaked through something terrible.

She feels weak, doesn’t like feeling like he has the upper hand on her. It’s a competition and if she frames it that way, she can’t be quite so embarrassed. Maybe. Something like that.

_I don’t know what I’m doing and it’s humiliating. He knows everything._

Her fingers slip into his robe and grasp his swollen need, causing him to tense, looking at her in surprise. Korra is lost in her own doubts and wants, feeling the sheer heat of him against her palm, slickness, the thick head and the veins.

“I don’t know…how do I…?” Now that she has him in hand, her self-doubt comes back. He’s an experienced man and she’s…well she’s _not_.

“Grip me firmly,” he says weakly, “and rub up and down.”

Korra tests it out, pausing only to moan feebly at his excited touching of her own privates. “Am I doing it right…?”

“Yes,” he rasps, against the mounds of her breasts, breathing roughly. “I love what you’re doing. You’re… _spirits_ …it’s perfect…”

At the sound of his enjoyment, his soft, whispered praises of how good she’s doing, that she’s such a good girl for him, Korra strokes with more assurance, growing familiar with the heavy feeling of him in her hand.

Her doubts drop away, along with her self-restraint as his fingers slips inside of her, curling gently, oh so gently. He touches her with a certain softness, caressing her with care. As if she’s something precious and he’s afraid of scaring her away, afraid of hurting her even a little.

It’s too much. Her emotions are all over the place, in pieces, she’s a mess and maybe it doesn’t matter. Shame can consume her later, she knows it will, but for now Korra feels herself clenching hard around his fingers, arching up into his thumb against her swollen clit.

Sparks of fire flash behind her closed eyes, her stomach tightening as a feeling begins to wash over her.

“That’s it,” Tarrlok says, encouraging her, as if she needs damn encouragement. He’s unbelievable, he’s so damn unbelievable that Korra could almost laugh if she weren’t busy biting her own lips. “You’re wet, so wet for me. You’re almost there. Squeeze my fingers, Korra. Come on.”

She tightens, arching, trying not to forget about him, letting her fingernails dance across his length in a way that has him growling in his throat.

“I want to kiss you down here,” he says as he curls his fingers inside of her, causing her to see stars. “I want to lick you open and drown in you.”

It’s like a dam breaking and Korra’s insides contract violently as she climaxes, his words ringing in her ears. It feels like heaven and it _shouldn’t_.

“Oh, Korra, yes…” he moans into her hair, cock pulsing thickly in her hand.

She looks with amazement as his slit oozes pearly white fluid, spilling all over her fingers. He’s thrusting his hips now, into her hand, groaning. She feels his cock flex, jump in her grasp, a stream of cum finally squirting forth, like a fountain, heavy testicles drawing tight, pushing forth his release.

Korra flushes, entranced and embarrassed. She’s never seen…never seen a man orgasm before.

_…and it’s so messy!_

When it’s over, he rolls off her, fingers gently sliding out from inside her body. He lies on his back, staring up at the ceiling and Korra suddenly doesn’t know if she has the courage to even look him in the eye.

Reality is harsh, crashing down like stones.

Her orgasmic high slowly fades, leaving her feeling empty. Her hand is sticky with his release and she wipes that on his robe absentmindedly. Suddenly, without desire at the wheel in her brain, this all seems like it was a _terrible idea_.

_What the hell have I done? I don’t even…like him! I came in here angry and he twists it all around! He could have been lying about not being the one to tell on me…and I go and reward him. Korra, how stupid can you be?_

“This doesn’t change things,” Korra says shakily. “I haven’t forgiven you for _anything_.”

He stiffens beside her, mouth going hard. Tarrlok doesn’t say anything for a moment. Then, with a bitter, sideways glance, he says in a strangely even tone, “That’s fine. I don’t need you to.”

They lie there in silence, stewing over what they just did together, realizing they’re still not friends, not exactly on the same side. Hell, Korra doesn’t even trust him one ounce at this point. Spirits, she _can’t even trust herself_ with him!

Something else slowly comes to the forefront of Korra’s mind, even as her body feels lax from the shocking release that Tarrlok had provided her. She doesn’t intend to focus on what just happened, doesn’t quite want to acknowledge the way she feels shame and guilt growing in her belly.

The idea that she’s done something wrong. She gave him far more than she intended. It may not have…seemed like a big deal to him, but she’s never done this with someone before. He’s screwed plenty of women, she’s heard of his womanizing ways.

She’s never…she’s never even touched a man’s cock before, not stroked him to orgasm, not listened to a man groan his pleasure for her. She doesn’t know how to feel. She wishes it hadn’t been _him_.

Korra knows that would hurt Tarrlok, to know that.

It’s then that she remembers something else crucial from earlier in the day.

“Your brother and I had a chat about something else, earlier today,” she says quietly, mentally exhausted. She doesn’t sound confident in herself.

She hates that. Her waning self-confidence. It’s always drifting after these long, horrid months.

Tarrlok stiffens beside her, one hand flexing on her stomach where he’s rested it. He’s still not let her go, holding her as if he’s in no rush to do anything else. He swallows audibly; her words have set him on edge. Tarrlok gently squeezes her stomach, intimately.

Korra shivers. _Stop touching me like you already own me._

“…and what did Noatak want?” His voice is wary.

Korra flinches slightly, hating that name. She _loathes_ hearing it. Amon having a regular watertribe name is an affront to everything she holds dear. A normal name, as if he’s human, as if he feels just like anyone else. As if he’s _not_ a monster.

But, he is.

“He informed me,” she replies stiffly, feeling like she’s being choked by an invisible hand. “That he’s going to begin Equalizing more of the Earth Kingdom. Republic City wasn’t enough.”

Tarrlok sighs roughly, his fingers stroking her belly in a way he clearly intends to be soothing. “You can’t honestly expect me to believe this is a shock to you, Korra. While it isn’t…great…to hear that he’s finally told you his plans moving forward-”

 _He knew about this? Amon told him about these plans and he didn't tell me?_ Korra feels like she's been slapped.

His well-manicured fingernails scrape her flesh in a delicious manner and Korra feels herself scowl. It’s pathetic how much she enjoys his touch. Then again, he’s trained her to be this way; Tarrlok has trained her to want his attention. To hate his indifference to her. Her stomach sours slightly and her mind rebels against her darker thoughts.

_He plays me like an instrument. He always finds a way to get the upper hand._

Just to knock him down a peg, to try and hurt him, she says, “He intends to take me with him, Tarrlok. Did you know that?”

Tarrlok sits up sharply, his glorious hair spilling over his shoulder as he stares down at her in horror. His eyes flash with something she can’t name and he grits out, “He intends to do _what_?”

“Do you really need me to repeat myself?”

Tarrlok moves away from her, movements jerky and aggressive, rubbing his brow in frustration. “He’s out of his mind.”

They sit for a moment before Korra gets up, righting her messed clothing. She doesn’t feel at home in her own skin. She feels like he’s taken something from her, made her his in some way. Leaving the bed, leaving him, she pauses at the doorway, unable to stomach being near him a second longer. “What are you going to do about it?”

Hand still at his brow, Tarrlok doesn’t look up at her. “I’ll fix it. I’ll talk to him. What he’s doing…it’s not about you. It’s…about me.”

That doesn’t make much sense to Korra, and yet…there is something about the two brothers. The strange push and pull of power dynamics between them. It’s beyond her understanding, but she does know that it’s unhealthy.

“Okay.”

As she starts to walk down the hall, she hears him call after her in parting, “I didn’t tell anyone, Korra.”

She closes her eyes and grits her teeth. _Then how did the Lieutenant figure it out?  
  
  
_

* * *

  
  
Afterwards, she runs herself a bath.

She tells herself it’s because she wants to wash away the memory of his touch. How skilled his fingers were, how certain, yet gentle he was as he handled her. How easily he made her come apart. How he felt in her grasp.

How the feel of his cock aroused her. The way she felt, watching his cock shoot cum, proof of his pleasure at her unskilled touch.

Yes, she could say she wants to wash away his touch. It would be a lie though.

She enjoyed it far too much.

Korra smothers her slight sobs, the ones that slip through her clenched jaw. Her vision blurs with tears and she leans back to sink under the water. It would be easier if she could just drown, maybe all of this internal pain would just go away.

_I’m not just a failure; I’m a disgusting human being, too._

_I want Tarrlok. I want more of him and he’s not a good man.  
  
_

* * *

  
  
That night, Korra locks herself in her room, refusing to see Tarrlok for dinner. There’s nothing she wants to say to him, not in the least at this moment. She’s a mess of emotions and dwelling on them only makes things worse.

Guilt, desire, and guilt again are at the forefront of her thoughts, dragging her down. Instead of thinking of Tarrlok, she sets to studying Aang’s book, making sure that her window curtains are drawn and that no one can spy on her through the window. No one can see what illegal act she’s committing, considering Amon apparently has spies everywhere.

Or, perhaps it’s just the Lieutenant.

Korra shudders in disgust, feeling her fingers tremble on Aang’s book. The very idea of that odious man watching her from the dark…night after night. It sickens her, imagining his eyes watching her through this very window.

_Does he watch me when I’m in bed? Sicko._

_Does he watch me with Tarrlok?_

She can only hope the Lieutenant hasn’t realized what she’s now in possession of. He can’t possibly know, otherwise Amon would have already raided the house. No, they are probably just going to be watching her coming and goings, to see if she will lead them to the resistance.

She can’t. She can’t slip up again…and here she thought she’d convinced them of her loyalty. Of her _submission_.

Apparently, Amon is far too paranoid.

Korra spends hours into the night staring at the book, trying to understand. The different chi points, the flow of power, the different wells of spirit power inside of Korra…all of it is written, but she can’t fathom how to reach it. She tries meditating, searching herself, but repeatedly finds herself in darkness.

Floating, searching for something that seems locked away for good. Torn in all sorts of directions.

She’s not…her inner spirit isn’t _well_. It’s bogged down with darkness, lit with streaks of red.

At some point, she meditates herself straight into sleep, a sleep that she wakes from some unspecified time later with drool on her chin. _Ugh._

Sometimes, Aang’s book fades from view, even though it’s open across her lap, even though she’s staring at it. She’s been studying for hours and hours, trying to figure out this odd phenomenon of energybending, but nothing comes to her.

There is no energy inside of her and if it is, it’s locked away, just as her airbending had been. Sometimes she can almost taste it on the edge of her tongue, but the end result is always the same.

Something is keeping her from unlocking it.

It feels like chains of blood, bitterness, and loss are wrapped around all of her chi-paths, suffocating her. Asphyxiating the energy inside of her. Despite this, she’s been trying a bit each night since she got the book, a hint of fear inside of her, wondering if she truly will never have her bending again.

That she’s a failure.

That she’ll never be able to stop Amon before he chooses to move on to other helpless cities. She needs to stop him, to get revenge for all the helpless benders who had been terrorized and equalized! Anger and frustration burn in the pit of her belly.

_Aang, why can’t you just give me a sign? What am I doing wrong?_

Her fingernails dig into the palms of her hands and Korra imagines squeezing hard enough to draw blood.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **AN:** Comments and kudos are adored, dears!
> 
> Thank you all for your patience. I know I'm a bit all over the place with writing these days, but my new job is quite taxing. Hopefully this chapter helps to smooth over the long wait XD
> 
> Hopefully you guys enjoyed the spice offering LOL. Naturally, I don't provided spice without some angst, so we get both.  
> And oh boy, Korra finally admits she wants Tarrlok, as in, really wants him. She's not too happy with herself about it. Poor girl...next up, we get some Tarrlok drama.


End file.
